If
by Brillant
Summary: Draco Malfoy is forced to turn to the Order for help when he cannot take the life of a Death Eater any longer. Based on the poem 'If' by Rudyard Kipling. HG/DM. HBP compliant, but not DH.
1. Chapter 1

"_If you can keep your head when all about you,_

_Are losing theirs and blaming it on you."_

_Wednesday 23__rd__ July, 1997._

_  
Grange Cottage had been empty for years; it was deserted, desolate and dilapidated. The people of the nearby village wanted it demolished and a new supermarket to be built in its place, but for an unknown reason the land was protected. Severus Snape watched through the broken window as two fat-looking officials wandered around outside, inspecting the land as they often did. He pointed his wand at them, knowing that they would both suddenly remember urgent appointments elsewhere and scuttle away. He remained looking at the night sky after long after they had left, lazily trailing his finger through the thick layer of dust and trying desperately to pay no attention to the sobs behind him. When he was unable to ignore it much longer, he spun around to see his young friend still slumped on the floor._

"You must stop that noise, anyone could hear you Draco."

"Who?" He spat back. "Who is going to hear me out here? We're in the middle of nowhere."

"As we should be. We would be found easily, were we to move to somewhere more populated."

"I'm sick of hiding like this. We're dirty, almost starving, and this place is always _so_ cold…"

"We have no choice. Would you like to go back and live with your father? It could easily be arranged."

Draco looked up suddenly, his grey eyes meeting those of his companion. They spoke of agony, regret and deep loathing. The intensity of them almost moved Severus Snape, if he were at all inclined to melancholy.

"Never. I would _never _go back to him. You wouldn't send me back would you? I couldn't take it…"

"If you wish to remain with me, you must strengthen yourself."

"But I can't! How many times have I told you? Those meetings…I would rather be dead…" Snape swept forwards and grasped Draco by his collar.

"Don't ever say such a thing to me! After everything I have done to preserve your life, you would rather I had left you to the mercy of your father?"

"I didn't ask you to save me, did I? He would have finished me off and then I wouldn't have to attend any more meetings…" The elder laughed bitterly, throwing the boy away from him.

"So that is the matter with you this evening. He won't call us again for a long time, I shouldn't think, so you needn't worry."

"I worry every night about it! I'm not as practiced as you, I _can't _do it." He began sobbing afresh, burying his head in his hands; he was shaking furiously.

"I will simply have to make arrangements for you elsewhere, then. Is that want you want?"

"Perhaps it is!" Draco finally clambered to his feet and began pacing. "Perhaps that is what I want." Snape's face suddenly cracked into a rare smile, revealing a mouth full of yellow crooked teeth.

"You will go to them? Happily admit to them that you were wrong, and submit to their questioning? They will not offer you safety if you don't…"

"I'll do anything…_anything _to get out of this. You'll take me there?" Snape took three deep breaths, as he contemplated the situation.

"Tomorrow." He said eventually. "But I shall not wait for you to change your mind. Are you really so weak now that you must go back to them?"

"It isn't always the weakest thing to give up. If I go there I'll have a warm bed, three meals a day, a bath, clean clothes… I'll be away from my father. It's in the interest of self-preservation, something you know too much about."

"I have already said I will take you, there is no need to be so defensive about your choice. You must be aware, however, that we will be in even more danger. There will forever be a price on our heads, from one side or another."

* * *

_Thursday 24__th__ July, 1997_

Draco Malfoy looked out of place walking through the luxurious London square. His clothes were filthy, his hair lacquered with grease and dirt and his body thin from hunger. Snape had given him a piece of paper that bore the address of the house, and he read it hurriedly. Before his eyes the houses shifted, and a tall and distinctly magical house appeared. Looking around him for followers, he strode up to the house and banged furiously on the door; Snape had assured him that, once on the top step, the Fidelius curse would protect him. He waited for a moment, his heart thumping beneath his rib cage, hoping that they would accept him…that he could have something to eat…The door opened, and Draco was surprised to see Hermione Granger stood in the doorway.

"May I help you?" She asked hesitantly. Her right arm was behind her back, and Draco suspected that she was clutching onto her wand. "I'm not sure how you found this house, but…"

"Am I really that changed?" Draco mumbled. "Have I really altered that much? I suppose that is what happens when one has to fend for oneself…

"Do I know you?" She asked again, her wand now held out in front of her. "Who are you?" Draco smiled crookedly.

"Master Draco Malfoy, at your service."

Before he knew it, Draco was dragged into the house with a wand digging into his back. He could practically hear her anger as she pushed him, motioning him to follow the dark corridor and descend the stairs. They arrived in a large, but grim-looking, kitchen in which several people were eating breakfast. The smell of bacon hit Draco like a wave, and his mouth began to water uncontrollably; he hadn't eaten meat in too long. Suddenly, the whole kitchen fell silent and turned to look at Hermione and the guest. Hermione broke the silence.

"He knocked on the door." She said simply, as if it was a normal occurrence. "So I let him in." A loud angry cry echoed around the room, and Draco staggered backwards as Weasley came out of nowhere and punched him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He yelled, his face turning puce. "Why are you here?"

"I haven't come for a boxing match, Weasel, if that was what you were thinking. I need help…I'm in danger." Ron lunged at Draco again, his fist pummelling Draco's stomach and face.

"Don't!" Hermione screamed. "Stop it! Please!" The blonde led on the floor, his nose bleeding profusely and a lopsided smirk on his face. Remus Lupin stepped forward then and put a hand on Ronald's shoulder.

"She's right, Ron. If he has sought us out…he must need our help."

"What if he's on a mission for Voldemort? What if he was sent here to kill us all?"

"I doubt that's why he's here – you're being ridiculous." Hermione replied. "He couldn't kill Dumbledore…"

Everyone else began muttering amongst themselves, avoiding looking at Malfoy. Everyone but Hermione. She was watching Draco, who had flinched at the mention of his name. He looked truly awful; emaciated, dirty, skeletal almost…"Look at him." She said quietly, but nobody heard.

It was agreed that Draco would be given some food and a bed for the night. Ron disagreed with the decision, but Remus was insistent; even Molly Weasley seemed eager for him to stay, but she could never turn away someone who needed feeding. Once he had devoured two helpings of breakfast, Hermione steered him upstairs – nobody else had wanted to do the job and so she volunteered. He stank to high heaven, and Hermione sincerely hoped that he would take the opportunity for a bath. She opened the door to one of the bedrooms, and they stepped inside.

"This is your room; you don't have to share it with anyone. There's a bathroom just down the corridor, with hot running water and anything else you might need." She expected a thank you, or a nod at least, but he simply sat down on the bed. "You should show more manners." She chided.

"I apologise." He drawled, quite clearly not meaning it at all. "I'm simply overwhelmed by the…warm hospitality."

Malfoy was surprised as Hermione rolled her eyes and sat on the small stool in the corner of the room, crossing her legs and folding her arms. She looked at him steadily, performing an inspection of his person with a scrutiny that Draco was uncomfortable with. "_What_?" He barked suddenly.

"I was just wondering why, that's all." Draco blinked.

"Why what?"

"Why you did it. And, more importantly, why you came back." He sneered at her.

"I'll make this easy for you. I did it because I wanted to – I believed every single line of bullshit my father fed me, and so I did what I _thought _I wanted. As to why I came back…I came back because I was scared. Is that a sufficient answer, Granger?" She stood up and looked at him haughtily, smoothing down her skirt.

"There's no need to talk to me that way. The questioning you'll get under Veritaserum will be much worse – at least I'm somebody who believes your intentions here are honourable. Harry and the others…well, they won't be so agreeable. Good night, Malfoy."

Draco stared at the door long after it had closed. The way she acted greatly unnerved him. It was as though she wanted to get inside his head, to know what he was thinking, and it panicked him. As he led down on the creaky bed, his mind drifted to the events of the past few weeks. Nothing had gone the way he had planned, nothing had gone right, and it seemed as though nothing would be right again.

* * *

_Author's Note: So this is the very first chapter of my new fic I think I'm absolutely mad, devoting myself to another long project like this, but I really cannot stay away from writing! It's been a little bit difficult: getting inspiration, finding time & motivation to write, but hopefully it will come off as a success. This story is based on the poem "If" by Rudyard Kiping, and there will be one or two lines posted with each new chapter; it would be great if you read these lines! Also I have, for some reason, decided to give precise dates for each event in the fic. It has made it quire awkward, what with having to define the timeline, but i think it adds to it. _

_One last thing (before i do the customary review request!) I plan to update this fic every Saturday. I'm quite busy, however, so if things aren't exactly on schedule, please don't be too angry. That is, of course, if i get any readers at all. If you have managed to last this long - please read and review! It means the world to me. :) Thanks._


	2. Chapter 2

"_If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you_

_But make allowance for their doubting too,"_

_Friday 25__th__ July, 1997. _

Draco remained in the kitchen for the rest day, as no one would show him any of the other rooms. He felt as though he were some form of attraction from the circus or the zoo; Order members came and went, stopping by the kitchen to gape at the attempted-murderer. He treated them with a scowl or a sneer, all except Professor McGonagall whom he had always had some unfathomable fondness for – she had been, albeit secretly, one of his favourite professors. Molly Weasley stayed in the kitchen all day too, watching him nervously as though he would pull out his wand and attack her. It irritated him, the fact that they were all so frightened. He was incapable of murdering anyone; he probably couldn't even finish off Potter if he wanted to. His newfound conscience wouldn't allow it.

At lunch time, Granger shuffled into the kitchen with a pile of books and a sheepish expression on her face. She sat across from him at the kitchen table and opened the first tome, diving directly into it without any greeting to either of them. Molly placed a mug of tea in front of her and didn't offer Draco one; he supposed that was her way of showing how much she disliked him. He didn't care, mind, he had never been a fan of tea.

"How much longer am I expected to stay in this room?" He asked arrogantly. "Could I see the garden? Or perhaps sit on a comfier seat…"

Hermione looked up from the book unsmilingly, as Molly Weasley glared at him from her seemingly permanent position at the stove.

"You are, as Harry put it, a 'flight risk'. We have to keep you here until the Veritaserum is procured."

"Am I any less of a 'flight risk' in the lounge? Or the study?"

"Yes. Remus said we should keep you here, where I can keep an eye on you."

"_You_? I would rather Potter watched me all day."

"That can be arranged. He's very interested in what you have to say for yourself." She replied coldly. "Funnily enough, he has an issue with the boy who tried to kill Albus Dumbledore."

"I was unsuccessful though. So, technically speaking, I haven't done anything wrong."

"_Haven't done anything wrong_? I always knew you were self-obsessed but to believe that everything you did was right? You nearly killed Katie, not to mention Ron, and you brought Death Eaters into the school! Bill was bit by Fenrir Greyback because of you!"

Draco shuddered at the mention of the werewolf – he had plagued his nightmares for almost a year. It was during the holidays last year that they had first met; his father had brought him to the manor. The man was neither human nor beast, but an eerie combination of both. Greyback had threatened Draco covertly for the rest of the year, sending him letters that spoke of how much he would enjoy the taste of his flesh. Draco had tried telling his father, but Lucius Malfoy had simply tossed back his blonde hair and laughed. Once, he even told him that it was a fate a coward like Draco deserved. Needless to say, Draco did not like to speak of him.

"I never asked him to come. He did it of his own accord." Draco spat.

"He shouldn't have had the choice; it needn't have happened in the first place."

"You don't know what it's like!" Draco cried, suddenly leaping to his feet. "Being _forced _by your parents, having no choice…" His fight drained away from him when he noticed both Molly and Hermione looking at him in surprise. As he sat down in his chair, Molly hurried over and placed a steaming mug in front of him. He looked at it before pushing it away. He didn't need their pity.

Draco wasn't certain when he fell asleep, but a loud bang startled him from his slumber. He was instantly on his feet, wand clutched tightly as his hand shook furiously. He started slightly when a warm hand made contact with his arm, and he looked to see Granger next to him.

"It's only Harry." She whispered, before sighing thoughtfully. "Although, if his temper recently is anything to go by, you may need it." Draco looked at her questioningly, before lowering it a little. The door to the kitchen flung open and Potter stood there, glowering at him fiercely.

"So it's true." He stated. "You've come crawling here for help. I thought you were many things, Malfoy, but never a snivelling turncoat." Hermione walked over to her friend and wrapped her arms around him, but he did not respond. His green eyes were fixed doggedly on Draco.

"How are you?" She asked quietly.

"I was alright before I heard about this git." Remus Lupin appeared in the doorway with Mad-Eye Moody behind him. Harry spun round and threw a vial to him, saying "here, the Veritaserum."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "How did you get that?"

"Stole it on the last day of school. I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't have minded, especially not as we're using it on this worthless bastard."

In a flash, Draco found himself bound to the chair and his mouth forced open. Other Order members began flowing into the kitchen, some cursing at him and others simply sneering. Remus charged forwards and forced the whole vial down his throat, before turning to Mad-Eye Moody.

"I'll take over from here, Remus." He pushed forwards and stood by Draco. "Are you really Draco Malfoy? Son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, born on the 5th June, 1980?"

"Yes, that is who I am." Draco replied drowsily. The sensation of being under Veritaserum was amazing, he felt more relaxed than he had in months. His mind seemed empty of any lies or falsehoods, and he could only recall those things that were actually truth.

"You are not under another magic? No potions or curses?" He answered in the negative. "Very well. On which date did you receive the Dark Mark?"

"Tuesday, 27th August, 1996."

"Who was gathered at this event?"

"Lord Voldemort, my father, my mother, Aunt Bellatrix, Uncle Rodolphus, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, Fenrir Greyback and several other Death Eaters."

"Why did you choose to take the Dark Mark?"

"A number of reasons. I believed that mudbloods were inferior, and that Lord Voldemort would bring glory to pureblood wizards and witches. My father also played a part; he said he would kill me if I did not join." The Order members exchanged anxious looks.

"How did you feel when ordered to kill Albus Dumbledore?" Draco thought for a moment, before sighing.

"At first I was thrilled; an occasion to prove oneself to the Dark Lord is a rarity. But afterwards…I knew I couldn't do it, I knew that I didn't want to do it."

"Why couldn't you do it?"

"I'm not a killer. I'm not a killer…._I'm not a killer_!" Hermione stepped forwards, staring at Mad-Eye.

"Stop it now; you have enough to go on…He's obviously in pain…"

"No we don't have enough, and I don't care how much pain he is in." Harry spat. "I have one last question for him. Have you seen Professor Severus Snape?"

"Yes. Professor Snape has kept me safe, he has cared for me. He sent me here; he doesn't want me to die."

"So the bastard is alive?" Harry looked around darkly, avoiding Hermione who stood anxiously in the corner. She knew what his reply would be, after all, she knew Harry. His voice was dark with emotion and power when he spoke.

"For now…"

The interrogation was over as Harry tipped the antidote down his throat. Draco lurched forward suddenly and was sick over the table, his chest rising and falling heavily. Hermione winced and cleared up the vomit as others filed out of the room; she ignored Harry's disapproving stare and fetched him a glass of water.

"Stop it, Hermione. He may be staying with us, but there's no need to wait on him."

"He's ill, Harry!" She snapped. "I'm going to take him upstairs and then we need to have a serious conversation." Draco stood up shakily, and followed Hermione as she blazed out of the room. The sound of her Doc Martens on the old wooden stairs resounded through the house, causing Draco to wince as his head throbbed. From somewhere below there came a screeching, followed by hurried footsteps and murmured voices. It sounded like some sort of battle was going on in the hallway, and Draco looked at Hermione questioningly when she turned with a look of disgust.

"_That_ is Mrs Walburga Black, your great aunt if I'm not mistaken."

"She still lives here?" Draco muttered. "I thought she'd died years ago."

"She did. But her rather stubborn portrait lives on, and causes as much chaos as she possibly can." Hermione let out a sigh. "I guess my stamping feet didn't really help."

When they arrived at his room, Draco walked straight over and sat on his bed, resting his head in his hands. Hermione hovered in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms folded. He glared at her, and she sighed.

"I have a word of advice for you, Malfoy." She said quietly.

"Well I don't want to hear it. Be so kind as to leave." His voice was dripping with insincerity, which only seemed to encourage her more.

"Harry is…Harry can be volatile whenever Dumbledore is mentioned. It would be prudent, for the sake of yourself and everyone else, if you didn't mention him at all." Draco blinked at her.

"Why is he so bothered about the old man? As far as I'm aware, he was only the headmaster of the school and leader of the Order of the Phoenix. It's not like he cared for Potter particularly, besides the excessive giving of house points." Hermione stared at him blankly.

"You're wrong – Harry meant a lot to Dumbledore, and vice versa. I'm sure you can understand the closeness between Harry and his mentor – you have a similar relationship with Snape." Draco's pallid face remained blank, but he felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach.

"I don't…I don't know what you're talking about. Snape was just a teacher, nothing else." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"_Really_? Something else you might like to consider, Malfoy, I'm far more observant than Ron or Harry. I'm not going to say anything more, but you might like to think about it."

* * *

_Author's Note: Just a thank you to everyone who read the last chapter, and those that reviewed it. :D_


	3. Chapter 3

"_If you can wait and not be tired by waiting"_

_Friday 1__st__h__ August, 1997_

Draco could not help but think of Snape. His actions constantly plagued his mind, and he continuously questioned whether he had made the right choice. Alone in the night, he led in bed, and began to wonder where Snape was and what he was doing. Was he alright? Had he been hurt? Had he been called to discuss Draco's whereabouts? He was certain that whatever was happening to his godfather was worse than the treatment he was receiving, and he suddenly found himself regretting his decision. He had taken the coward's way out, choosing to live with people he hated to avoid the mess he had gotten himself into. Sighing, he buried his head into his hands, desperately trying to block the picture in his mind.

It was Snape in the cold dark room at Malfoy Manor, genuflected before Voldemort who sneered at him maliciously. His father was stood behind him grinning malevolently, as his mother cowered in the corner; chained up like a dog, treated like a whore.

"And where is our young friend tonight, Severus? Has he got better things to do than serve his master?"

"Draco is with the Order, my Lord, safe where you cannot find him." Voldemort gave a high laugh, looking around at his gathered servants.

"Severus thinks that the Order is stronger than me! You always have been a fool Snape, and you will finally suffer for your stupidity." He pointed his wand towards Snape's black head and… "Avada Kedavra!"

Draco suddenly flinched and found that he was led down, a dried trail of slaver on his chin. He wiped it away and sat up, squinting at the muggle device that stood next to the bed; it read 6:25, and he presumed that it was a sort of clock. His heart was thumping in his chest, his hands trembling from the sheer shock of the dream. He was used to nightmares, but he had never dreamt that anyone would get hurt because of him…What had he done? What would his decision to leave Snape make them do?

_Wednesday 6__th__ August, 1997_

12 Grimmauld Place was the dullest house that Draco had ever stayed in. His days were monotonous; conversation was rare, and the feeling of hatred towards him lingered throughout the whole house. Some days he was forced to remain in his room all day, and others he would find doors locked because of some important business. His only form of entertainment was to watch the 'Golden Trio', and to observe the way they interacted. It soon became clear to Draco that things weren't as pleasant as they seemed to be. Potter was preoccupied with the war and Weasley was forever trailing after Granger, whilst she simply buried herself in books. He saw the looks she would give them sometimes, looks of pure dislike that everybody else seemed to miss. Draco was intrigued – he was desperate to know what was causing the tension.

It was a lucky evening for him, when he was whiling away the hours in the attic. He could hear voices coming from the rooms below him. They were hushed and hurried, but if Draco led on the floor, he was certain he would be able to hear them. Pressing his ear against the dusty floor, he steadied his breathing and waited. Granger and Weasley. He could picture them in the hall, standing close together, checking every so often that they were still alone.

"All I want to know is why – it isn't a hard question!"

"How many times must I tell you Ronald? I can't…"

"I promise I won't be offended, honestly. I just want to know." Granger gave a testy sigh, and Malfoy could picture her folding her arms.

"We're too different. It would be a veritable disaster!"

"Because you're clever and I'm not?" Draco had to fight the urge to laugh; Weasley's ears were no doubt glowing red.

"Not at all! Do you really think that little of me? It's simply because…oh I can't explain it and I won't. I just don't want to go out with you, Ron!"

"It's Harry, isn't it?"

"No! Now will you please let me come past you and go downstairs, your mother has been shouting of me for fifteen minutes now."

"We haven't finished talking about this."

"Yes we have. You infuriate me! What does it take to get a little privacy in this house?"

"We won't be in this house much longer, will we? Harry wants to leave tomorrow…"

"I'm not talking about this now, Ron. I'm going to read – don't disturb me if you know what's good for you. Draco heard the door slam, and he sat up with a grin of triumph on his face.

_Thursday 7__th__ August, 1997_

The house was quiet when Draco came down for breakfast the next morning. He expected Granger to be sitting at the table, with her usual muesli and newspaper, and was surprised to find her absent. Mrs Weasley put a plate of buttered toast in front of Draco, and smiled at him shyly.

"Where is she?" He asked, biting into the butter-soaked toast.

"They've…uh…gone for a little while." Molly replied. Her sketchy answer piqued Draco's interest, and he looked up at her.

"Gone where?"

"I'm not…well…I don't really know. They shouldn't be gone for very long, though – I hope." Draco recoiled in horror, as Mrs Weasley began to weep into her apron. The kitchen door suddenly opened, and Lupin walked in.

"Oh Molly, are you crying again? They'll be safe, I'm sure! Harry seems to know what he's doing, and Hermione would never let them get into too much danger." Lupin wrapped his arms around Molly, before looking at Draco. "Have any of them mentioned this to you?"

"No. Why would they? They don't talk to me if they can help it."

Lupin sighed and sat down at the table, as Molly bustled out of the kitchen to 'clean herself up'. Draco watched carefully as the man rubbed his eyes; he looked weary, older than he should have done. Draco wondered if everyone who lived through the first war looked the same, as though they had been aged by the very event. Would that happen to him?"

"I can't believe he would _do _this. He knows that it isn't the right time for him to be out there, and yet he still went. Putting his friends in danger like that…" Remus thumped the table hard. "I wish I had trained him better."

"Potter doesn't listen to advice." Draco drawled. "He never has and he never will. Snape tried to teach him Occlumency, didn't he? But he wouldn't have it." Remus stared at Draco, before sitting back in his chair and nodding.

"Where is Snape, Draco?"

"I don't know where he is, and that is the honest truth." Draco stood up and began to leave the kitchen.

"Draco." He stopped and turned, to see Remus looking at him with pity.

"You made the right decision coming here. It may not have been easy, you may not be as comfortable as you might like but…it was the right thing to do." Draco nodded, before leaving the kitchen and Lupin staring after him.

_Author's Note: A huge thank you to everyone who read and reviewed my last chapter. I would be incredibly pleased if you would do the same again! :D It might be prudent for me to leave a disclaimer here so: I do not own anything! I'm writing for my own pleasure, and certainly not for profit. If i was getting any money, i wouldn't be hunting for a job right now! Thank you again! :D _


	4. Chapter 4

"_Or being lied about, don't deal in lies"_

_Thursday 25__th__ December 1997, 2:25am_

The room was cold when Draco woke up with a start. He had been having the nightmare again, but this time it was more drawn out. The room was icier, the red glare of Voldemort's eyes stronger, Snape's suffering seemed to last an eternity, and the screams…he shivered. Reaching for his glass of water, he found that it was empty, and scrambled out of bed with a disgruntled sigh. He then began to forage blindly for his wand, finding it stuffed underneath the bed behind a pile of dirty clothes. Suddenly he heard a stifled moan from just outside of his door; his body tensed, and a cold shiver of fear washed over his entire body. Grasping his wand, he clambered out of bed and edged towards the door. Had they found him? Were they here to take him away? He heard the moan again, as his left hand found the door knob and began to gently turn it.

He had been anticipating his father, expecting Lucius to be standing there prepared to kill him. Instead, he saw something that shocked him even more. Weasley was led on the floor in front of his door, a gaping wound in his head and his leg distorted. He was just conscious, unlike Potter who was slumped against a wall further down. In the silence, there came another muffled moan of pain and Weasley looked directly at Draco.

"Malfoy…" He groaned quietly. "Hermione…she…" He motioned with his hand, and Draco gasped at what he saw. Granger was led on the floor, scratches covering almost every area of bare skin, her wand lying in a limp, lifeless hand. Draco climbed over Weasley and walked towards Granger, bending down next to her and gently placing two elegant fingers to her neck. A wave of panic crashed over him as he realised her pulse was weak and a second one sent his head reeling when he realised that, the longer he waited, the more ill she would get.

"Help." He cried, somewhat quietly, before taking a deep breath and yelling. "_Help_!"

It didn't take long for the others to come running. Bangs could be heard throughout the entire house, and before Draco even had change to move Lupin was stood on the landing, closely followed by Mad-Eye.

"Good grief!" Moody barked; his human eye fixed on Draco and his magic eye scanning each of the injured. "What the bloody hell went on here?"

"I woke up and heard moaning, came outside and found them…like this." Draco heard a small gasp from behind him, and knew that Mrs Weasley had arrived. "She…she's in the most trouble. I checked her pulse and…" Remus began giving orders, but Draco found that he was not listening. His eyes were fixed on Granger, taking in the paleness of her face, the cuts on her body. He wondered who'd done this to her; was it someone he knew? Was it Snape? Or his father? He shuddered, as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Back to bed now, Draco." It was Lupin. He spun round, his face distorted in anger.

"_Bed_? You expect me to sleep after…after _this_?" He watched as Madam Pomfrey, who had suddenly arrived on the scene, began to levitate the three of them downstairs.

"I would advise you to go to your bedroom. With any luck, Harry will be awake soon and we need to speak with him."

"What do you expect me to do until morning then?"

"Sleep, perhaps." Remus rubbed his forehead. "I must be heading downstairs, Draco. Please go to your room directly, or else I will be forced to take stronger methods."

Draco let the door slam as he stormed into his room, hoping that he would perhaps set Mrs Black's portrait off. The 'Golden Trio' had been gone for months, and he had just saved their lives, yet he was treated with cold indifference and forced to stay in his room. He stood in the middle of the room and let out a sigh, before spotting yesterday's Daily Prophet on the desk. The headline caught his eye, and he charged across the room to pick it up; it read "Deadly Death Attack: Muggle Mauler Malfoy". In the dark, Draco squinted at the small photograph and watched in horror as the figure cast the Killing Curse repeatedly. He began to shake violently, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. The photograph was of him. He looked at the photograph again; his mother had given those robes to him for his last birthday, the hair was slicked back in his familiar style, and the face was the same he saw in the mirror every morning. Now the whole world would think him a cold-blooded murderer. He only wondered how long it would take the others to confront him.

* * *

_Thursday 25__th__ December 1997, 9:00am_

"I want to see the bastard! Let me in that bloody room, Remus, or so help me I will – "

"You will do _nothing _Harry James Potter! The boy hasn't left the house, so how you expect him to have been at Ottery St Catchpole I have no idea!" Molly Weasley's shrill voice jolted Draco from his sleep. He was led on the hard dusty floor still, the offending newspaper screwed up in his hand. Blinking, he clambered to his feet and listened to the conversation outside his door.

"Please can you just keep calm Harry? You've sustained some terribly injuries, and Poppy will flay me alive if you hurt yourself again. If we could just go downstairs."

"NO! I want to see that bloody – "

The door was flung open, and Draco turned towards it. Potter stood there angrily, wearing a tartan dressing gown and pyjamas, yet still looking menacing. Neither of them talked, but simply stared at the other with unbridled hatred.

"I suppose you're angry about this?" Draco drawled, waving the newspaper. "I can assure you, _Potter_, that I was nowhere near those muggles the other night. As Mrs Weasley said, I haven't left this house."

"I don't believe you! How else could they have got that photograph? Or are you going to pretend that someone was simply _pretending _to be you."

"Someone _was _pretending, Harry." Lupin said, hovering behind him. "A source of ours has informed us that it was an innocent wizard who had been forced to take Polyjuice, and put under the Imperius Curse. That is why we saw no need to discuss this with Malfoy, we already knew." Potter looked at Remus disbelievingly, but he dropped his wand-hand.

"Thank you, Harry." Mrs Weasley said soothingly. "Now come downstairs and we'll have a cup of tea."

"I don't believe him, no matter what you say." Harry said slowly. "Even if it wasn't him there, he must have known something about it. You're all too trusting of him, and it will come back to bite you in the end." He shot one last glare at Malfoy, before turning and leaving the room.

As Potter and Mrs Weasley descended the stairs, Lupin entered Draco's bedroom. He looked at the unmade bed, and the mussed state of Draco's clothes before letting out a sigh.

"I apologise for not explaining before, Draco. I was uncertain whether you'd seen the front page of the Prophet, but we didn't want to cause you any distress by bringing the topic up. I hope this hasn't caused you any undue stress."

"You should have told me _before_ Potter tried to come in here and kill me, instead of simply locking me away." Lupin nodded gravely.

"I apologise. It was, perhaps, not the most sensible thing to do. Anyway, merry Christmas Draco." Draco started. He had completely forgotten what day it was. Christmas Day had always been a huge event at Malfoy Manor. His family hosted an annual Christmas Eve party, to which all of the most important wizarding figures were invited. Draco had been rubbing shoulders with Quidditch Players and Ministry Officials since the age of at least seven, and he had always received a huge Christmas gift from the Minister of Magic. Christmas Day was also a spectacular event; a huge five course dinner, including every amazing treat you could ever think of. Draco's particular favourite was an impressive Blancmange, which had always looked spectacular on the dining table. The worst Christmas he had ever had was the one he spent at Hogwarts during fourth year. Not even the Yule Ball had made it better; watching Potter act the hero and Granger flouncing around with Krum…A thought suddenly came to him, and he ran out of the room after Lupin.

"Wait! Professor Lupin!" Remus stopped and turned to him, surprise registering on his face.

"You needn't call me that anymore, Draco, Remus will do just fine. How can I help you?"

"How is…how is Granger?" Lupin's face fell.

"She's still unconscious, but Poppy says that her condition is improving. We're all keeping our fingers crossed."

"Of course. Right…well…thanks." Draco hovered awkwardly at the top of the stairs. "Will there be any dinner today or anything?" Lupin shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. Molly is, of course, distraught. If you'd like anything to eat, just help yourself. Have a nice day, Draco." As Draco went miserably back into his room, he couldn't help but wish that he was back at home with his parents.

* * *

_Thursday 1__st__ January 1998, 7:00pm_

Draco knew when she had woken up. It was hard not to, what with the cries and cheers ringing through the house; they were so loud they reached him, even in the heights of the attic. He sat still and continued to stare out of the window, but wondered if he should perhaps go down and join in the celebration. He wasn't particularly excited that she was awake again, but he was somewhat pleased that she wasn't dead. However, he remained sat where he was – something told him that Potter wouldn't be too pleased if he showed his face. For an hour he sat alone upstairs, listening to the rumbling of happy conversation downstairs and the popping of champagne corks; he wondered why it as so easy for noise to float about the house like that. Suddenly, there was a tentative knock on the trap door and it was pushed open to reveal Molly Weasley's flaming red hair.

"Draco, Hermione is awake." His face remained placid, and his eyes remained focused on the book he was reading.

"I know." He heard Molly shift uncomfortably.

"Hermione is asking for you." His head whipped up, a frown showing his confusion.

"Me? Why does she want to talk to me?"

"I think you had better come and find out for yourself."

Draco entered Granger's bedroom gingerly, as Molly Weasley stood at the door and watched. He jumped a little when it shut behind him, and was surprised to see Granger grinning at him from her bed. She looked pale, still very sickly, and he wondered what the true extent of the damage was, and how she had got hurt so badly.

"Hello Malfoy." She said quietly. "I hope I didn't disturb you."

"Er…no." He looked around the room. "It's good that you feel better."

"Yes! And I have _you _to thank for that." She motioned to a chair with her hand. "Please sit down."

"There really isn't any need to thank me. I didn't really do anything. Madam Pomfrey healed you." Granger smiled and shrugged.

"Yes, but if you hadn't found us when you did…" They fell into silence, as they thought of what the consequences might have been. "Thank you." She added.

"As I said, it's nothing."

"Well to me it certainly is something. I owe you a debt, remember that." Malfoy felt uncomfortable; he wanted to get away from her, run out of the room. The only thing that kept him there was curiosity.

"Where did you go?" He asked. "How did you get yourself into such a mess?"

"I had a job to do – I had to help Harry. We didn't intend to be away for such a long time, but it was beyond our control."

"Did you see my father? Did you see Snape?" Hermione looked at the door anxiously, before biting her lip.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you anything." She bit her lip again. "Harry would be furious…"

"Please." Draco demanded, almost begging her. "Please, you _must _tell me if you saw them. What harm will it do if I know?" Hermione looked again, before gazing at him warily.

"Yes." She whispered. "I saw your father, and I saw Snape. They were both at Ottery St Catchpole; your father was leading, but Snape didn't really do much. Your father gave me most of my injuries." She had a somewhat bitter smile on her face. "But I forget, I'm not allowed to talk about _that _either." Draco grinned mischievously at her.

"What harm will it do if you tell me?" Hermione let out a small sigh, before an equally impish smile passed across her face.

"Exactly."

* * *

_Author's Note: I apologise that this chapter is a week late! Last weekend was terribly busy, and so i didn't have time to upload this chapter. A huge thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, i hope you do the same for this one! :D_

_Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor the poem If belong to me. They are the property of JK Rowling and Rudyard Kipling respectively. Thank you. :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Firstly, i apologise profusely for such a long delay between this chapter and the last! These past few weeks have been incredibly busy - i hope you can forgive me! I'd like to thank everybody who has read and reviewed this story so far; it means the world to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. :]_

* * *

"_Or being hated, don't give way to hating,"_

_Tuesday 20__th__ January, 1998_

He couldn't help but spend time with her. It was the oddest thing which, whenever he considered it, baffled him to no end. It wasn't that he _liked _her any more, or that there was any particular enjoyment during the long hours spent in the library, but it was something to beat the tedium of being locked in the house. He found that it helped him, consoled him; he never thought of his father when they were together. Every morning he would get up and eat his breakfast, before heading to the library where she would join him. They would read in silence, mostly, but occasionally she would try and make conversation – they never really found much to talk about.

Slowly, he ascended the stairs carrying two steaming mugs of tea. He could have levitated them, but he still felt uneasy using magic; even though Lupin had reassured him that it could not be traced. When he pushed open the door of the library, it was only to find Granger sat cross-legged on the floor with a huge dusty tome propped on her knee.

"I've brought you a cup of tea." She looked up with a small smile and a smudge of dust on her cheek.

"Oh thank you very much, could you just put it over there?" Draco placed it on the small table, before taking a book from the shelf and settling into the arm chair. He had only read the first page when she spoke again; her voice ringing clearly around the room and making him jump. "What happened…whilst we were away?" Draco was taken aback by the wistfulness in her voice.

"You should know better than anybody that nothing ever happens here."

He continued to stare at his book as she sighed, and he heard her shift position on the wooden floor.

"I didn't want to leave, you know, I thought it was silly. The only reason I went along with the boys is because Harry wouldn't cope without me. He has no plan, no idea about what he is going to do next; everything happens by chance."

"I thought you enjoyed Potter's recklessness; you always seemed to go along with it at school."

"It always seemed like he had a plan with Dumbledore on his side, but now…? Well, he really doesn't have a clue what he's doing." She sighed again. "That's why I go along with them – they would die without me."

They lapsed into silence again; Hermione's attention returned to her book, but Draco's lingered. It wasn't the first time he had seen a noticeable divide between the 'Golden Trio', but this reference both shocked and worried him. If the rest of the world knew that Granger did not think Potter capable, there would surely be riots in the street. What would they do if 'The Chosen One' wasn't able to defeat the Dark Lord? It was a future that Draco wouldn't let himself contemplate, for it was a future in which he would not exist. Draco suddenly realised that Granger was looking at him with wide eyes, chewing anxiously on her bottom lip.

"Yes?" Draco drawled, praying that his voice sounded level. The very idea of Granger knowing how he felt offended him.

"Forgive me if this is an intrusive question, but I've been wondering…what do _you _think of Harry?"

"Surely I have made it perfectly clear how I feel about Potter. I dislike him more than anyone else in my entire life; the very fact that he lives infuriates me." Surprisingly, Granger didn't even flinch. She continued to look at him levelly, only a look of curiosity glinting in her brown eyes.

"Oh I know that you dislike him, it's hardly a secret is it? No, I simply meant to ask your opinion on his _abilities_. Even one who hates him, like you do, cannot deny that he is a capable wizard?"

Draco thought for a moment, and tried to focus on Potter without thinking of the hatred between them. Draco's curiosity, jealousy and arrogance had been the creation of his hatred for Potter; it was only later reinforced by the whole debacle of his father's alliances and the Dark Lord. Draco let out a small sigh.

"Potter was an average student; he barely managed in Transfiguration, only just scraped by in Potions, was hopeless in Transfiguration and almost equally as terrible in his other subjects. The only things I have ever seen him excel in are flying and Defence Against the Dark Arts. He is, I will own, perhaps the best Seeker of our generation." Granger was smiling, and Draco loathed the smug look on her face.

"I'm glad you can see some of Harry's positives. However, you've only talked about his abilities so far as academics are concerned. You've witnessed Harry in battle, how do you think he fares?"

"Competently, thanks to his abilities in Defence. There is only one issue I have with Potter in battle: his emotions affect him. He takes his mind off the goal, and focuses only on how he is feeling. Lord Voldemort knows this, and has manipulated Potter's weakness several times. If I were Potter, I would work on trying to shut _off _my feelings when I am fighting." He was surprised to see Granger nodding, somewhat sadly, in agreement.

The door was suddenly flung open, interrupting their conversation and revealing a fuming Potter. For one horrific moment Draco presumed he had heard them, and was not prepared to see a duel between Granger and Potter. He was positive that, were one to take place, it would only end in the death of 'The Chosen One'. Granger scrambled to her feet, looking red-faced and flustered.

"Harry!" Potter looked at her only briefly, before fixing his glaring eyes back on Draco.

"What are you doing alone with him again?" Potter practically snarled. "This is becoming something of a habit."

"We're just reading, Harry, like we do every day."

"I don't see why you have to read with _him _though. You used to be perfectly content sitting downstairs with Ron and I."

"Maybe because he doesn't interrupt me! He can sit _quietly_, without making snide comments or teasing me." Potter snorted.

"That's a bit ironic, considering that all he did for six years was make snide comments and tease you! You shouldn't be spending time cooped up here with him, you should be helping _me_!?" Granger let out a small sigh, before smiling weakly at Draco.

"Could you give us a moment, please? Harry and I have something to discuss."

Draco nodded and left the room. As he headed towards the stairs, he suddenly found the desire to stay and hear what they had to say. It was clearly about him, and so his curiosity was truly piqued. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he headed back over to the door and pressed his ear against it. Potter was complaining about something which, it seemed, was all he ever did.

"It's unnerving me that you're spending so much time with him. I hate him, Ron hates him, _and you_ hate him. Can you really be willing to break us apart because he can sit and read quietly?"

"Break us apart? You are _ridiculous _Harry! Yes, Draco was nasty and cruel when we were at Hogwarts, but we were only children."

"He was a Death Eater! And the last time I checked, Death Eaters kill muggles and muggle-borns."

"He left the Death Eaters because he couldn't take it Harry. Nothing you say will dissuade me from trying to befriend him, because all of your reasons thus far have been invalid! He is all alone Harry, isolated from his family and from his friends; he needs a friend. I think you need to grow up and realise that mistakes are made, and people can be forgiven."

"I won't change my mind."

"I know. I've long since ceased believing that you will ever change your mind about _anything_." Draco heard her sigh, the fatigue clear in her voice. "Just let me pack up here and then we must go to your room; I've found something I think could be useful."

* * *

_Sunday 8__th__ February 1998_

Draco woke early that Sunday and, instead of going straight to breakfast, he headed to the attic. This unused room fascinated him – the curious objects that the family had stored there were incredibly interesting. He pocketed some of them, sure that the Blacks wouldn't have minded; he was a relation and, besides, they were dead. Inspecting an odd-looking ornament, he sat down on the window ledge. From there, he could see out onto the square and watch the muggles going about there business. That was another thing which intrigued him; the simple way the muggles managed to live without magic.

The sun was just about to rise as he sat there, cradling his knees and blowing the dust from around him. He wasn't really paying attention to the square, but a sudden movement caught his eye. His head whipped round, expecting to see a swarm of Death Eaters or simply his vengeful father. There _were _two cloaked figures crossing the square, but they were heading away from the house and Draco recognised them instantly. It was Potter and Weasley. They both carried large bags, with their wands outstretched in front of them. Draco blinked, and when he looked again they were gone. Mildly, he wondered if Granger knew. She would be furious when she realised – it was something he was looking forward to witnessing.

Somewhere in the house, a shrill alarm rang out, and Draco knew that it was Granger's alarm clock. Any minute now she would get out of bed and realise that they were gone. He briefly wondered how they could bear to leave her; after all she did for them, and how they were seemingly unable to cope without her. Draco was certain that, if he were to have a relationship like theirs, he would never leave her alone like that. Sighing, Draco stood to his feet and brushed the dust from his trousers, before placing the ornament on the windowsill and making his way down the stairs.

She was already in the kitchen when he arrived, leaning on to the table for support with one hand on her hip. Lupin was sat at the table eating porridge, and seemingly not paying much attention to her.

"Where are they?" Hermione demanded. "I've checked their room and their things are gone, so there is no point pretending you don't know!" Draco was surprised how calm she seemed; perhaps she had been expecting it a little? Lupin put down the spoon and looked at her, sighing tiredly.

"Harry said he had an important lead, and that it was imperative he left right away. They couldn't wait for you, Hermione, you're not well enough."

"I knew he had a lead – I gave it to them! I just don't believe that…what difference would a couple of weeks make? I cannot believe they have just left me alone…" She sat down at the table, folding her arms across her chest. Her head whipped round to glare at Draco. "I bet even you knew they were leaving!"

"They left across the square. I watched them go." She let out a squeal of indignation.

"This is unbelievable! He lectured me about breaking us apart and then...why did they leave me?"

"Harry must have his reasons, dear. But there's nothing you can do now." Mrs Weasley interjected softly. "Just have some breakfast. I'll make pancakes."

"I don't _want_ pancakes!" Hermione stood up and walked towards the stairs. She stopped at the door. "Come with me, Malfoy."

He followed her up the stairs and into her room, where he sat down on the chair by her bed, whilst she began rummaging underneath the bed. Eventually, she pulled out a small bag made of green velvet and waved it in front of his face.

"What is that?"

"Those stupid little boys! I cannot believe that they think they can do this without me! They'll get themselves killed – I know it! And if they do, well then it's their own stupid fault! That must have been what Harry meant last night, when he said 'please keep researching, Hermione'. I thought it was a bit odd, a bit out of the blue! Well, I can't be expected to do this research alone!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Draco was taken aback when she looked up and grinned at him. It was a not a pleasant grin, however – Draco could only describe it as feral.

"Let's see how Harry likes being betrayed, shall we? 'Don't tell anyone, Hermione'. Bollocks, I'll do as I please – they seem to." She tugged at the drawstrings of the bag suddenly, before tipping it upside down and watching as something fell onto the bed. With a gentle hand, she picked it up and dangled it in the air. It was a locket – a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, but tarnished by a small burn. Draco was particularly fascinated by the green 'S' emblazoned on it.

"Where did you get it? It's beautiful." He leant forwards to touch it, but Hermione snatched it away.

"You can't touch it. I wish it was just a beautiful piece of jewellery, but it's actually a powerful dark object."

"It's Slytherin's locket." Hermione smiled, nodding.

"Yes. Taken from the very vaults of your father's house – I thought you might have seen it before."

"I haven't. I've just seen the same emblem on some other things." He pointed at the scorch mark. "Why is it burnt?"

"We had to destroy it, so unfortunately the relic had to be damaged. Up until last month, a small segment of Voldemort's soul resided in this locket." Draco let out a low hiss, and leant back in his chair. It felt as though Voldemort had entered the very room. His heart rate picked up, his hairs stood on end and his blood ran cold. Hermione put the locket back into the bag and shoved it under the bed.

"There's no need to panic, Malfoy." She said quietly, putting her hand on his arm. "The soul was destroyed" After a silence of five minutes, Draco suddenly spoke.

"So Voldemort had a Horcrux?" Hermione laughed.

"I wish that was the case! He has, in fact, seven."

"_Seven_! Bloody hell."

"Yes…and that's what we've been looking for. The Horcruxes. Three have already been destroyed, so there are four left to find." She stopped suddenly and smiled. "How did you know about Horcruxes?"

"Snape kept making mention of them last year. I didn't really listen to half of what he was saying, I was too occupied with something else, but the idea of Horcruxes resonated with me. It's…it's too far – even for Voldemort."

"I'm glad you agree." They fell quiet for a moment. "That's what I've been doing in the library every day, researching Horcruxes. We need to find all of them before Harry can defeat Voldemort. It's imperative – without them he cannot be killed."

"And you require my assistance?" Hermione nodded, smiling.

"Would you help me? Would you help try and locate them?"

Draco hesitated for a moment. He had come to Grimmauld Place for refuge, for a safe place to stay away from Voldemort. He had never intended to actually join the fight against him, to actively get involved with the battle. If he helped her with this, well, he was getting much more than involved. The idea terrified him yet, at the same time, he was intrigued. It was inevitable that he would go on trial at the end of the war, and doing something like this would be a great help. He was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins know when something is in their best interest.

"Of course I'll help you. I cannot promise that I will be much assistance, but I shall try." Granger smiled and, before Draco knew what she was doing, she had placed a small hand on his left forearm.

"Thank you." Draco removed his arm from her grip. It was yet another moment loaded with discomfort; he had several of them when around Granger. And he had no real idea why.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Firstly, I hope all of my readers had a lovely Christmas, or whichever holiday you choose to observe! I also hope you have a wonderful new year. My third, and final, hope is that you enjoy these two lovely new chapters - yes _**two** _chapters __! I decided a little yuletide treat wouldn't go amiss, so here are the next two installments of "If". Thank you for all of those who read and reviewed my last chapter - it is, as always, greatly appreciated!_

* * *

"_And yet don't look too good, or talk to wise"_

_Wednesday 25__th__ February, 1998_

Draco had never once considered that his budding friendship with Granger would change the way her closest friends thought about her. He had continued happily enough, secretly revelling in the idea that he knew someone who he could learn to trust. He was so intrigued in their research, so swept away by his now busy days, that he completely missed how isolated and withdrawn Granger was becoming. It finally occurred to him one evening after dinner, when they were sitting in the library. Draco had his head buried in a book, but he noticed that Granger was not reading. She sat on the window ledge, looking out into the night; there was a storm raging, and rain lashed against the pane.

"Are you alright?" He asked. She turned her head to look at him; her face shielded by her bushy hair, and gave him a weak smile.

"Quite. Thank you." They lapsed into silence once more – a silence which was sporadically broken by Granger's sighs. Draco looked at her again, and watched her closely as her eyes remained fixed on the window.

"What are you watching for?"

"How do you know I'm watching for something?" Her voice sounded distant, disinterested.

"It's a look I've seen hundreds of times. I'm sure I often look that way myself. So do tell me what it is you're watching for."

Her head whipped round and her eyes flashed with something that Draco couldn't quite place. It seemed like anger, disappointment, regret…and it was all focused on him. He closed his book and folded his arms, leaning back against the chair languidly.

"Why is it any of your concern?" She snapped, narrowing her eyes. "I am perfectly allowed to watch for whomever I like." Draco tilted his head cockily, a smirk spreading across his face.

"It's your friends, isn't it? Well, I say friends…Scar-Head and Weasel King are hardly the best friends in the world – they just upped and left you, after all." Granger made a sound of disbelief and stood up, folding her arms across her chest.

"Why are you being so facetious?" She demanded angrily. "You're acting like the arrogant prat you were at school!"

"Yes, simply because you acted that way first." The harsh expression on her face dropped a little.

"I'm sorry." She sighed again before returning to her seat. After a moment, she spoke again. "But you must understand how it feels. They're my closest friends, and I have no idea where they are. You _must _know how I am feeling."

"Must I? Why?"

"Well, you always seemed good friends with Crabbe and Goyle. Wouldn't you worry about them? Be scared for them?" Draco laughed bitterly.

"Not at all. I really couldn't care about the safety of either of those great dolts. They were never my friends; in fact…I have always expected that my father ordered them to be my 'friends'." Hermione let out a gasp of disbelief.

"Why? They always seemed to like you enough, defend you, do whatever you said…"

"Yes, that is true. But they also sent a bi-monthly report to my father about everything from what colour jumper I wore to what I ate for my breakfast."

Hermione sat down, but this time she took her usual place on the sofa; she stretched her jean-clad legs out and rested her head on the arm.

"You must hate your father." It was a simple statement; not meant to be hurtful or painful, but it felt like she had thrust him with a dagger. In all of the time he had spent with her, he had never really thought about his father; in her presence, he managed to switch it off – the fear, the anxiety, and the hatred…it faded away. Sensing his discomfort she turned to look at him, propping her head up on her hand; she looked interested, but cautious at the same time. Draco let out a rattling sigh, before fixing his eyes on her and slowly nodding.

"I hate him more than you would ever be able to comprehend. He has destroyed everything, without even a flickering of regret. My mother is a broken woman, most of his former friends are dead, and I was forced to do something against my will."

"He made you join the Death Eaters…"

"No." Granger's dark eyes met with his, and they were filled with disgusted surprise. "My father did encourage me, of course, but the choice was mine. In fact, to begin with I was _eager _to give my life away to the Dark Lord." Draco felt something stir within him, when Granger's face blushed red.

"Why? Was it the power, the promise of a thrill?" Draco was reluctant to answer her question. He picked up his book once more, and attempted to bury himself in it. However, he felt the touch of her small hand on his arm. "Do tell me why." He looked up at her, his face impassive but honest.

"Those were simply added bonuses for me. My decision to join the Death Eaters was fuelled by my opinions – I hated muggles and muggle-borns, and I wanted the magical world rid of them."

"And your hatred is still the same. Your opinions have not changed – it is clear on your face."

"No, they have not changed."

They sat in silence for five minutes or so. Draco pretended to get back to his book, but his eyes were simply fixed on one spot – his heart was no longer in it. Granger had led back on the sofa once more, her eyes focusing on the ceiling. He wondered what she was thinking, what was going on it that busy head of hers; she was always thinking about something, he knew. Suddenly she spoke, but her eyes still remained on the ceiling.

"And do you hate me?" Draco swallowed; he could either tell the truth, or fabricate a lie. A lie would be easier to tell; it would be less embarrassing, and no doubt give him less discomfort. A lie would probably be better for her too; admitting any connection to her would put her in extra danger – could he do that? She sat up and moved closer to him; her open, pretty face tilted towards him. Whispering, she repeated her question. "Malfoy…do you hate me?" Swallowing again, he shook his head.

"No. I have come to learn that…I do not hate you." Granger smiled in quiet victory. She reached forward and placed her hand on his.

"Good." Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco acknowledged that everything had changed.

* * *

_Saturday 28__th__ February, 1998_

Draco watched through the window, feigning disinterest, as Granger received a letter from an owl in the yard. The beautiful owl sat on her arm, looking almost haughty, as it fed from the palm of her hand. She clutched the rolled up letter in her other hand, and Draco found himself growing curious as to its contents. She smiled as the owl flew from her arm, as she turned to re-enter the house. Draco watched carefully as she sat opposite him, and unrolled the scroll. It took her about two minutes to read the letter, and then she read it again as her face became increasingly red. Mrs Weasley, clearing her throat, scuttled from the room leaving the pair alone. Granger looked up at Draco, blinking, before she pointed her wand at the letter and set it on fire.

"What was it?" Draco asked, trying hard to keep his voice from sounding too interested. "A letter from Potter and Weasley?"

"Yes! And I cannot believe their audacity. To write me such a short, distant note when I had sent them three pages of parchment! I am supposed to be their friend and yet…and oh how can they tell me what to do when they aren't even here?"

Draco was surprised she didn't stamp her foot. She was throwing a complete tantrum; thumping her fists angrily on the table, glowering at the pile of ash, and tossing her hair back. Draco thought she looked almost majestic in her anger – like a spoilt queen who determined to have her own way.

"Will you write back to them?" He asked nonchalantly. "If I were you, I would never write to them again."

"I shan't!" She declared angrily. "They told me to stay away from you, you know! Harry said you were slimy, befriending me to wheedle out information! And Ron! Ron's comment was beyond absurd! He said you were too _good looking _to be spending so much time with me! Why, if they were to come here now I would kill him!" Draco found their letter amusing, as opposed to Granger's finding it offensive. Potter was clearly feeling insecure; Draco suspected his attempts at finding Horcruxes were probably going awry, and that Potter was looking for someone to blame. As for Weasley…well, he was clearly jealous. Draco smirked, seeing an opportunity to jibe at Weasley.

"It is natural for Weasley to feel threatened and jealous, of course. If I were him, _I _would not like my girlfriend spending so much time with someone as handsome as myself." Granger tossed her head back and laughed.

"Your vanity is astounding, Malfoy. Ron has no need to be jealous or threatened, for he knows perfectly well how I feel about him." Draco's face fell – his taunt had not been successful. With a somewhat smug smile on her face, Granger stood up and walked towards the door.

"So you are going out with Weasley then? I thought – " Hermione laughed again, before leaving him alone in the kitchen. Draco, with an unfamiliar feeling stirring in his stomach, stared at the pile of ashes on the table. He had clearly missed something, but he couldn't exactly place what it was.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: The second installment, and my longest and most favourite chapter to date. Hope you enjoy it too. :)_

_

* * *

_

"_If you can dream – and not make dreams your master_

_If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim"_

"Come and say hello to your godfather, Draco. He has come to see you especially, so I will not tolerate any silly behaviour." Draco stepped forwards, tripping slightly over his robes that were far too long for him.

"Hello godfather, it is very nice to meet you." Remembering what his father had instructed him to do, Draco stuck out his hand and grinned as his Godfather shook it.

"Well done Draco." Lucius interceded. "But I must ask that you call him Professor Snape, it is unseemly to call him godfather." Draco was somewhat put out, but his godfather smiled at him crookedly.

"Am I correct in thinking that it is your birthday today?" Draco nodded eagerly.

"Yes, and I have received lots of gifts! Would you like to see the puppy that father bought me?"

"Perhaps later, for I have a gift for you first." Snape waved his hand; a package zoomed out of thin air towards Draco, stopping right in front of him.

"Is that what I think it is?" Lucius asked ominously, as Draco tore the paper to reveal a shiny broomstick.

"That's amazing!" He cried excitedly, leaping onto it and waving as he flew into the air. "Thank you so much Professor Snape!"

"You are very welcome, Mr Malfoy."

As Draco circled the skies ahead, cheering and whooping occasionally to emphasise his enjoyment, he watched his father and godfather anxiously. They were talking to one another, clearly trying to hide their conversation but doing it unsuccessfully.

"I told you _expressly _that I did not wish for Draco to have a broom so soon. He is only five years old."

"Exactly." Snape responded, watching the blonde boy. "So he should be enjoying himself in the fresh air, instead of learning how to take tea correctly or how to boss the house elves around. Your son seems like an intelligent boy, Lucius, please don't spoil him by making him precious."

"Draco is _my _son, and I shall treat him how I choose. You will take the broomstick with you when you leave, Severus, and never ignore my wishes again."

That evening, as Draco's mother tucked him into bed, he told her all about the meeting with his godfather. She listened smilingly, as she stroked her son's blonde hair with fondness.

"What do you think of him? Do you like him?"

"Very much! He seems a little angry, scary too…but I like him. Did you see the broomstick he bought me?" Narcissa placed her hands onto her lap, let out a delicate sigh and smiled sadly at her son.

"I must speak with you about that, darling." Draco closed his eyes and leant back into the pillow. "Your godfather had to take the broom back with him."

"Why?" His eyes had snapped open, and he stared at his mother. "Why has he taken it back?"

"Your father doesn't want you to ride a broom yet, dearest; you have lots more to learn before you can do _that_."

"But…but I was good at it, mother. Why does father ruin everything? I hate him." Narcissa sighed and kissed his forehead, before walking over to the door.

"I know, darling. I know."

Ever since that day, Draco had mentally compared Snape to Lucius. His godfather was such a dark-looking man, with a permanent sneer on his face and a nasty demeanour. Draco's father looked like an angel; the blonde hair, the bright eyes and his ability to be the most charming man in the room. Yet Draco had never been able to truly _like _his father. If he had to choose between them, Draco would have always selected Snape.

* * *

_Tuesday 10__th__ March, 1998_

Draco's head was swimming with thoughts about his father as he sat on the windowsill of the attic. From there he could see the chimneys of the nearby houses, and watch the muggles going about their business. He watched as a young boy learnt to ride his bicycle with his father, and felt the familiar pang of regret and jealousy. Sighing, he pressed his hand against the cold pane of glass and closed his eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Draco turned to see that Granger had stopped reading. She was sat on the floor, her head angled to him with a thick smudge of dust on her face. He couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, thank you."

"I don't mean to pry, but judging by your expression everything _isn't _alright." She closed her book and walked over to the window, instantly spotting the boy and his father. "Tell me about your father."

Draco moved to allow her to sit on the windowsill too, with her back against the opposite wall and her legs between his. He avoided her eye, choosing instead to continue staring at the view of London outside.

"You know a lot about my father already. He isn't very complex, but simply the man you have met several times: cruel and merciless."

"Tell me about him anyway – tell me about your grandparents, your childhood…"

"I have only met one of my grandparents: my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. He died when I was ten years old, so I had the misfortune of ten years of weekly visits." He sighed and turned to look at Hermione. "He wasn't a pleasant man, in short, but my father most certainly saw him as the perfect role model – for both him and me."

"You visited your grandfather every week? I cannot imagine that."

"Yes. It would no doubt be preferable if I told you that I had a ghastly childhood; that I was uncomfortable and unhappy."

"Were you?"

"Not at all. I had everything I could have wanted. My home was large, we had plenty of money and I got almost everything I wanted when I asked for it. The only time it became…difficult was when my father was in Azkaban. That is when I began to realise that everything wouldn't always be so smooth."

Hermione smiled somewhat pityingly, and Draco shrugged his shoulders. "What about your childhood? I'm intrigued as to the sort of home a muggle born witch lived in." Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and sighed.

"My parents certainly weren't as wealthy as yours and, of course, they were muggles. They were both relatively normal, mundane even. My father likes to fish, and my mother bakes fantastic cakes; that is, when they are not both working at their dentistry practice."

"Fascinating." Draco said, smirking. "Can you fish or bake?"

"Not at all! I'm appalling at both." They laughed awkwardly.

"You would have been better asking about Snape." Draco said quietly. "He has been more of a father to me than Lucius has ever been."

"Oh? Of course, I knew he was your godfather, but I had no idea you were so close." Draco told her about his fifth birthday, and he cringed when she touched his arm. He loathed it when she did that, couldn't stand the physical contact and didn't understand how it could make it at all better. "And so he has been like that ever since? Someone who you could turn to, who would give you the things your father wouldn't?"

"Yes. Snape was the only one who understood that I didn't want to…that I couldn't…that my father's path wasn't for me." He ran a hand through his hair, trying hard to avoid the pitying looks she was giving him. "He tried to help me last year, but I turned him away. I was so afraid, yet so determined, and wanted to do it alone." He laughed bitterly. "In the end he did it for me, and we both had to run away because of it. Then, on top of that, I couldn't handle it and he brought me here."

"_He _brought you here?"

"Yes, and I'm glad I insisted on it." Draco shook his head. "You will never be able to appreciate all that he has done for me. Without him, I would be dead."

"You must miss him." Draco reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a scrap of folded parchment.

"I want to send this to him." He held it between two fingers, and waved it elegantly. "But they won't let me send letters. You, on the other hand…"

"You want me to send a letter to Snape?" She sighed. "They wouldn't like it." Draco leant forwards and smirked cheekily, and he was pleased to see he still 'had it' when Hermione blushed a little.

"Please? It isn't going to hurt anybody, is it? One tiny letter to Severus Snape. Think of it as a thank you, for saving your life." Draco felt a little bad about manipulating her like that, but it was his only choice. He needed to speak to Snape. Gingerly, she took the letter from him and slipped it into her pocket.

"I'll send it." She whispered. "But you mustn't tell a single soul. I'm doing this to show my gratitude, and not as any show of support for Snape. I still believe he betrayed us, and that isn't going to change."

Without thinking, Draco reached out and touched her arm. He looked into her face earnestly, and nodded.

"Thank you."

* * *

_Wednesday 25__th__ March, 1998_

On a dark and damp afternoon when Draco was five years old, he realised his first ever aspiration. Whilst his father was at the ministry, and his mother asleep in the parlour, he stole away from his governess and managed to find his way into his father's library. He had never been permitted to enter there, and it had always been a fixation of his. As he finally stood amongst the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books, it occurred to the little blonde-haired boy that he wanted to read every single one of them. He could smell the leather and the old fusty pages, and Draco had a strong desire to hold each of them and read the words written there. Eagerly he had run his hand along the shelves, feeling the beautiful binding beneath his fingers and feeling a shudder of delight as he did. There were books about love, death, violence, betrayal and desire; books about geography, history, philosophy; books with only maps, or pictures, or in foreign languages which he could not yet understand. His sole dream became to read them all. For a moment he did not think of his father's anger, or his mother's frantic worry when she realised he could not be found – he could only think of reading those books.

Taking the first book on the bottom shelf, he went and sat in his father's wing-backed chair and opened the book. Without realising it Draco fell asleep, all curled up in the forbidden security of his father's library. His governess had found him, scooped him into her arms and brought him to his mother for a suitable punishment. When Draco awoke, without his book and sat in front of an angry mother, his dream was readily forgotten. However, his mother had gently placed her hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Draco darling, what were you doing in father's library?" He had smiled at his mother, and with wide eyes told her of all the beautiful books.

"I want to read every single one of them, mother! I'm going to, I promise!" She smiled at him kindly.

"Draco, you are not allowed to enter your father's library, so you cannot read all of those books." Draco's eyes had brimmed with tears; he could not understand why his mother was doing this to him. He asked her, folding his arms tempestuously.

"Why not, mother? I _want _to." She let out a weary sigh.

"Sometimes Draco, what we want and what we get are two different things. You, especially as a Malfoy, shall have to learn to simply accept it."

That was the first time one of his dreams had been shattered, but it was certainly not the last. As Draco prepared to go to Hogwarts, his head was full of dreams of being friends with the great Harry Potter. His parents had told him all about it; the story of Harry killing the greatest wizard of all time, and of how Potter had no idea of his true, noble heritage. Draco was determined to teach Potter all about it – they would play Quidditch together, share the packages of sweets his mother sent him at the weekends. Potter and Malfoy would become the greatest pair of wizards Hogwarts had ever seen, bringing pride and joy to the Slytherin house and showing the world how they were the _best _of friends. However, Draco's first introduction to Potter had not gone at all swimmingly. He had already become pals with the redheaded Weasley vermin, and had all but snubbed his attempts to be friends. Instead, Draco was stuck with Crabbe and Goyle who could barely climb onto a broomstick let alone play Quidditch. He had been bitter about it for months, complaining to his mother in his weekly letters, until she had sent him a letter with a particularly poignant post script. Draco had read "Remember what I told you Draco, what you want and what you get are two different things". He had soon abandoned any hope of being Potter's friend and, instead, turned all of his energy towards getting his revenge – mercilessly teasing 'Scar-Head' and his ridiculous friends.

Perhaps the most painful, and disastrous, end to one of Draco's dreams was his joining the Death Eaters. For years his father had described it as being the best thing that could happen to him, the only sure way to get power and everything he wanted in one move. Draco had been promised power, influence and money, and he had begun to almost realise that dream. The taste of victory and success was in his mouth, and Draco was quite ready to savour every morsel. Then he was given the assignment to kill Dumbledore. As he worked, half-heartedly, to try and find a way to fulfil his assignment, Draco had begun to realise that there was no glory in murder. Cold-blooded killing would not bring him power, nor would it bring him money or influence, and it would certainly not bring him popularity. As he sat on the floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the most recent letters from his mother and father crumpled in his hand, he sobbed loudly for his most destructive dream. His own dreams and ambitions had led him towards death – it was either to be his, Dumbledore's or Snape's, but someone was certain to die.

Even two years later, this broken dream hit Draco like a thousand knives. It was early in the morning, about 1 O'clock, and he sat awake in his bedroom; the covers pulled up to his chin. The memories of his misguided hopes and aspirations stung, as he battled to ignore new ones that were blossoming in his head and his heart. He had tried fervently to block out these new desires that he could feel growing inside him, almost like an unwanted tumour or disease. Yet every day his resolve was growing weaker, and the roots of his new dreams had a strong hold on him. As he sat in the dark, shivering slightly, he finally realised that he did not have the energy to fight his aspirations any longer. He wanted _her_. He desired _her_. She was like those forbidden books in his father's library, the excitement of a possible friendship, the strong desire for power and influence and freedom. She had come to represent everything he could never have, all wrapped up neatly in a brown-eyed, bushy-haired package. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes. What had started as a half-hearted friendship, had developed into a mild attraction and now an indisputable desire. He shivered again, but he was not certain whether it was the cold or the realisation of what he wanted.

Sighing, he climbed out of bed and wrapped his dressing robe around him. He would make himself a cup of tea, and get a slice of that carrot cake that Mrs Weasley had left on the counter. He liked the house when it was quiet, when even his bare feet made a sound as they slapped against the floor. As he descended the stairs, he heard a noise that suddenly made him stop. From within the kitchen, he could hear muttered voices that sounded both distressed and angry. He edged a little closer, making sure not to make any kind of noise. It was Granger, and Draco believed that she was talking to Professor McGonagall.

"You must be missing them terribly." McGonagall said, her voice unusually soft. Draco almost grinned as he heard Granger snort in disagreement.

"I would be missing them a lot more if they weren't being so…controlling."

"Controlling? Whatever do you mean? Have you received a letter from them?"

"Oh yes! Several, and each one more domineering than the last! I am at my wits end with them, Professor McGonagall. I am not allowed to do _anything_!"

"And by 'anything', do you mean spending time with Mr Malfoy?" The disgust was evident in the old professor's voice.

"Yes, yes I do mean spending time with Malfoy. I cannot see why everyone has such a problem with me being near him!" Draco heard McGonagall sigh wearily.

"It is not a problem with you being near him, Hermione, but simply a lack of understand as to why you would _want _to. He is not a pleasant boy." Granger laughed sourly.

"And Harry is? Those two are more alike than people believe; both can be stubborn, arrogant, selfish and pig-headed. Yet they both have saving graces, Professor McGonagall. I want to be Malfoy's friend."

"But _why_?"

"I don't know why, Professor McGonagall! Why does anyone want to be friends with somebody? It seems like a perfectly…natural thing for us to be."

"It is very strange indeed, Miss Granger, and I am sure that Professor Dumbledore would not have wanted it." Granger laughed. "I will simply have to forbid you from being his friend; it is ridiculous. He is untrustworthy." Granger's laughter only increased more, and Draco found it eerily beautiful as it echoed up the stairs.

"I am afraid I shall have to disobey you then, Professor. I will be Draco's friend, even if the Ministry of Magic make a law declaring it to be illegal!" Her voice, although it sounded polite, contained thinly-veiled anger and defiance. "You have become like everyone else, Professor. Like Dumbledore and Harry, this war is no longer about what is right or what is wrong – it has become about personal grudges and disputes. You are all petty and vindictive, cloaking it beneath the efforts for the war." McGonagall let out a startled cry of disbelief.

"How dare you speak to me like that? You are quite run mad, Miss Granger!"

"I am perfectly sane, Professor. Sane enough to know that this conversation has been thoroughly unpleasant and a waste of my time. I'm going to bed now, because this conversation has exhausted me. Good night."

Draco ran back to his room as fast as his legs could carry him. He leant his back against the shut door, and slid down it so he was sat on the floor. Granger speaking out against McGonagall had been amazing, and something that he himself had wanted to do for many years. He couldn't help the smile that slid across his face; it was not a smirk, or a grimace, but a simple honest smile. Still smiling he closed his eyes and, like his five year old self, fell asleep with the heady feeling that his dream could possibly, for once, be attainable.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: A huge thank you to everyone who read and reviewed my last two chapters! I hope you enjoy this next chapter just as much. :) A song which particularly inspired me during this chapter is I Caught Myself by Paramore. I don't know why, i just imagine it to be the way our dashing Slytherin hero is feeling! ;) Anyway, enjoy! _

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"_If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster__  
__And treat those two impostors just the same;"_

_Monday 13__th__ April, 1998_

Growls of fury first alerted Draco that Hermione was outside. He moved over to the window and pressed his nose against the filthy glass, causing Hermione's image to become clearer. She had set something up in the yard, an obstacle of sorts, and was blasting various spells at different targets. Draco watched as sparks of various different colours flew from her wand, and he had to admire her handiwork. Some of the spells she used he had never seen before, and he wondered where she had managed to learn all of these things. After all, they had been in the same Defence class since first year.

Hermione stopped suddenly and turned around, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Molly Weasley came into view, carrying a pitcher of something which she put down on the small garden table. Draco watched their conversation, but was soon intrigued as to what they were talking about. Hermione was gripping her wand and Mrs Weasley looked a little flushed. Unable to withhold his curiosity, Draco fiddled with the latch and silently opened the window. He was suddenly hit with the fine rain and the chill, and was even more confused as to why Hermione would be outside in such weather.

"I'm glad to see you doing something else for a change. You're in the library now more than you ever were." Hermione sipped the drink she had been given.

"I needed some fresh air…and the chance to work out some tension. I _hate _being pent up in this house." Mrs Weasley nodded.

"You three always were so restless. The boys – "

"I don't want to talk about them." Granger handed the drink back to Mrs Weasley, and turned back to the targets. She hit successfully on almost every single one.

"I'm sorry." Mrs Weasley sighed. "Where is Mr Malfoy? I'm surprised he isn't here with you – you've been inseparable recently."

"Upstairs I should imagine. But…I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about Malfoy and his safety here. Could we sit down?"

Mrs Weasley and Granger went to sit on the bench, which was directly beneath the window. Draco could hear everything now, and he could just see their faces if he leaned over a little.

"What is it you wanted to discuss?"

"I think we should move Malfoy to somewhere else. Abroad somewhere: I was thinking Japan, or America…somewhere currently untouched by You-Know-Who. Europe is too dangerous for him. I think he would be safer elsewhere – far away from Grimmauld Place." Mrs Weasley was nodding slowly.

"I can see the logic in that, Hermione. But…I thought you would want him close by…you have become friends."

"I want him as far away as possible, Mrs Weasley. London, England, _Europe _isn't safe, from what I have gathered from Harry's letters. He needs to be gotten rid of Molly – soon."

Draco's head spun suddenly, and it felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. He couldn't understand the betrayal, or her evident desire for him to be as far away from _her _as possible. Draco had thought they were becoming somewhat close; he had divulged so much of himself to her, and she too had yielded things she had never told anyone else. In fact, just the previous night she had confessed, although she was somewhat tipsy and tired, that she was glad he was there with her. The very idea that, in reality, she was scheming to get rid of him hurt, more than he had ever been hurt in his life. Shaking his head, Draco stumbled back from the window. Ignoring the noise it would make, he slammed the window shut and stormed out of the room, his head spinning with a mixture of emotions – pain, sadness, fury and betrayal. He stormed through the hallway downstairs, almost colliding with Mrs Weasley as he did. He saw the pitcher of lemonade wobble, as the redhead looked at him with concern.

"Are you alright, Mr Malfoy?" She asked. Draco ground his teeth and continued, his hands balled into fists.

"Never better."

Hermione didn't turn when he entered into the yard. She had resumed her target practice, and was sending more of the multi-coloured spells flying across the yard. He came to a sudden stop; his heart thudded in his chest and his temples throbbed with the sheer fury.

"I knew you were listening." She said casually, still not turning. "I've been to this place countless times, and I recognised the window opening." Draco didn't say anything, finally provoking her to turn. She slipped her wand into the belt of her jeans and stepped forwards, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you terribly angry?" Instead of speaking, he used all of his strength to press her against the back wall; he stood so close that their faces were only inches apart. Draco was not surprised to see that there was no fear in her eyes, for he knew she was stronger than that. Threats from him were nothing compared to those from his father, and she had suffered from plenty of them.

"Yes." He said quietly, trying desperately to ignore the feel of her breath on his cheek. "You are planning to have me sent away! You want me gone! Explain yourself!" Hermione smiled, sending a fresh wave of rage through him.

"Is that why you're so angry? I thought you would be pleased that I want you to be safe. No matter what everyone thinks, it wouldn't be hard for the Death Eaters to get in here – not hard at all." Growling, he placed his hands on her shoulders and roughly pressed her further against the wall. The determination in her eyes flickered, and he felt the old familiar buzz of terrorising someone. "You're hurting me." He sneered at her and pressed harder, digging his fingers into her flesh and praying that he was hurting her as much as she hurt him.

"You lied to me. You said you wanted me around, that you were _glad _that I was here. If you were so happy to have me around, why would you ask them to send me away? You are a _liar_."

"Are you listening to me at all? You aren't safe here, and neither am I! I would have – "

"I don't want to hear any more of your bullshit." He squeezed her even more tightly, shivering at the sensation of his fingertips digging into her soft flesh. Fighting the urge to run, he looked at her face which was barely an inch from his. Her eyes were wide and, as ever, inquisitive, but full of fear; her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming quickly. Shivering again, his eyes flicked to her mouth – lips so soft and inviting.

"Please let go of me." She whispered. He ignored her plea and, instead, he let go of one of her shoulders and placed the hand around her delicate neck. The silence and tension in the yard was so palpable that Draco could almost feel it wrapping around his neck, strangling him. Her voice, clear and determined, broke it. "Draco, you are hurting me."

The sound of his name broke the trance that he was in, and he instantly loosened his grasp, resting his hand at the base of her neck. With his right index finger, he made a gentle trail from her chin to her plump lips, which were open and trembling. His eyes locked with hers and he realised that, strangely, all of his fight and anger had dissolved. He no longer cared that she wanted to get rid of him, that he would be shoved to another foreign place without anyone caring for how he felt. Letting out a gentle sigh he leant his face closer to hers, and was shocked to feel the forceful and sudden touch of her lips on his.

Her mouth was hot and eager, her tongue probing and gentle. As he wound his arms around her small waist, her hands became tangled in his blonde hair. Draco was sure that the entire house could hear his heart beating, no, the entire square. Suddenly he pulled away, but kept his arms firmly locked around her. He could feel almost every contour of her body, and he was confounded as to why he had never contemplated doing this before. Six years at Hogwarts had been wasted on bullying and teasing – why would anyone do that, if they could have this instead? Hermione was looking up at him expectantly; her eyes round with surprise but crinkled with the unmistakeable desire to smile.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have hurt you like that." He drawled; his voice was low and husky, and he wondered if she noticed.

"You were mad, it was a reasonable reaction." Hermione finally smiled, albeit shyly, with her eyes averted. "If you had listened to me, I could have explained myself. I _do _want you to leave Grimmauld Place, but I had every intention of coming with you." He couldn't stop himself from grinning with relief, delight and incontrovertible elation; his smile only grew when she kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

"Why didn't you mention that to Mrs Weasley?"

"She would never have agreed to even think about it, if she believed I intended to go with you. It would be a last minute decision, and I would provide an argument which they would not be able to dispute I wouldn't have let you go alone."

They stood in silence for a while, neither of them speaking or moving, simply trying to accept what had just taken place. Draco gingerly moved his lips back to hers, recommencing their kiss. It was less fevered this time, but had lost none of its passion. Moaning, Draco moved a hand from her hips, pushing it underneath her thin cotton jumper and onto the bare skin of her back. He could feel the goose bumps rising on her back, and smiled against her lips. When his fingers reached the strap of her bra she let out a small gasp, and he let out a chuckle from the back of his throat. A small part of his mind was protesting against his actions; he was rushing everything, getting ahead of himself, and he would probably only regret it later. Ignoring his inner protestations he dragged his fingers along her bra, admiring the feel of the lace against his skin. He was about to reach for the clasp, when a voice suddenly broke out across the yard.

"Hermione?"

Draco felt two small strong hands press against his chest, and he was made to stagger away from her. He turned slowly, to see Weasley and Potter standing there. Weasley was further forwards, his cheeks flushed and his fists hanging by his side. "What were you doing to her?" He growled. Hermione stepped forwards and stood in front of Draco, slowly taking out her wand.

"Ron, Harry…" Potter charged forwards to join his friend.

"You were kissing him, weren't you?" Harry bellowed. "_Weren't you_?" Draco strode forwards arrogantly, smirking at the two seething boys.

"Yes, and I do believe you interrupted us. Would you care to return to wherever you came from and leave us in peace?" Harry lurched forwards, but Hermione stepped in his way and stopped him.

"No! You can't fight, I won't let you!" Draco suddenly realised that her eyes were flooded with tears. He sincerely hoped that they weren't caused by disgust at their kiss, but he also wished that they would lead to her slapping either Potter or Weasley.

"What the bloody hell do you think you were doing?" Weasley demanded, bearing his teeth. "You could do so much better, Hermione."

"What?" She asked sarcastically, sniffing. "Like you, perhaps?" She laughed bitterly, shaking her head and dashing past them into the house.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note: First I'd like to apologise for the lateness of this chapter! I've been really busy with work, and also i was really unhappy with some parts of this chapter. I'm still not 100% content, but it's necessary for it to be like this, in order for the story to progress. Anyway, I'd like to just thank everybody for reading and reviewing the last chapter - I'm grateful, as always! I hope you enjoy this one, please read and review. :)_

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* * *

__  
_"_If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken_

_Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,"_

_Monday 13__th__ April, 1998_

Draco didn't see anything of Granger or the others for the rest of the day. Like them, he had locked himself in his room and had resolved not to leave for anything. Molly Weasley was given the unfortunate task of coaxing them all from their rooms for dinner, which Draco had reluctantly agreed to do. Sat around the table with them, Draco could barely keep his anger in. Potter kept his fury-filled green eyes fixed on Granger, whilst she picked half-heartedly at her casserole, as Weasley stabbed his potatoes as though he imagined them to be Draco's head. Mrs Weasley seemed to be aware that something untoward had happened, and it irritated Draco that she exchanged several anxious looks with her husband. After fifteen minutes of eating in silence, Potter spoke. He threw his fork on the table with a violent cry, and brought his fists down with a thump.

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, her eyes wide with worry. "Whatever is the matter?"

"_Him_." Potter spat. "I don't know how you can stand to have him sat at the table." Molly let out a weary sigh.

"Mr Malfoy is doing nobody any harm! I'd hoped you and Ron would have become used to him being here by now."

"Well I haven't." Harry stated. "I want him to leave – he isn't welcome here anymore."

Draco remained sat down, watching impassively as the others around the table reacted. Weasley nodded furiously in agreement, as his mother looked ashamed and embarrassed; it seemed that Mr Weasley was not too certain how to react. Granger, however, was a completely different matter. She leapt to her feet, knocking the chair backwards with a clatter, and had pointed her wand at Potter's forehead.

"How _dare_ you?" She demanded. "You leave without a word of notice, insult me dozens of time through letters, and then return here as if you're in control and tell him that he has to leave? Who on _earth_ do you think you are?"

"I own this house." Potter said calmly. "I'm in charge now that Dumbledore is dead, and I have something _important _to do. It isn't my problem that you have your priorities mixed up."

"Yeah!" Weasley added, standing up too. "We can't all stay at home snogging former Death Eaters who tried to kill a man!" Granger flushed scarlet, letting her arm drop helplessly by her side. She looked around the room, as though seeking an ally who would stand up for her. Draco should have done it, he knew. He should have stood up and shot them all down with his words – he knew he was capable of it, but for some reason he didn't want to. Granger bit her lip in a bid to stop the tears from flooding.

"You don't know anything." She hissed quietly. "You haven't made any attempt to get to know him. Yes he did things wrong, but everyone makes mistakes!"

"Not everyone makes mistakes which should land them in Azkaban." Granger laughed.

"We've done illegal things too, Harry!"

"He's evil, Hermione." Weasley stated. "Pure and utter evil. Everything from his parents, his name and even his _house _say that he is."

"He isn't." Granger retorted. "Things he's said to me…they couldn't have been said by someone evil." Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat; things were becoming too personal, too close to home for him. Weasley snorted.

"A clever plot to make you like him! I can't believe that someone as smart as you can't see that! You're a fool Hermione Granger. He's going to take whatever opportunity he can, to give you over to his father. You'll regret it when you're lying there, bound and gagged in the Malfoy cellar. You mark my words."

Granger shook her head, the tears now clearly rolling down her cheeks. She opened her mouth, as though to say something, but snapped it quickly shut and left the room. Draco felt a shiver run up his spine as he heard her burst into tears and run up the stairs. Clearing his throat, Draco stood to his feet. He looked at Mrs Weasley and smiled honestly.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs Weasley." She nodded at him, smiling weakly. The smile fading from his face, he turned to look at Potter and Weasley. "If you wanted to keep her as a friend, _gentlemen_, you have gone quite the wrong way about it. You are lucky that she has taught me self-restraint, because if she hadn't…" He raised an eyebrow. "Let us just say I know some very interesting curses. Good evening and…thanks again for dinner Mrs Weasley."

* * *

_Tuesday 14__th__ April, 1998_

The whole day passed again without Draco meeting Granger, Weasley or Potter. He didn't even bother heading to the library, knowing well that she would not be there. Sighing, he had decided to sort through the things that he had brought with him; he needed something to distract him, to keep his mind from thoughts of Grander. The sack had remained stuffed under the bed, gathering dust, for the whole time that he had been there. He had been given clothes by Mrs Weasley, as the only clothing he had brought were his Death Eater robes, some plain black trousers and his old school uniform – so the bag had remained completely untouched. Snape had shoved some things into the bag before they had left – old books, quills and parchment, a tin of shortbread biscuits, and a curious leather pouch that Draco had never seen before. Tentatively, he opened it and turned the pouch upside down. A small badge, no bigger than a fifty pence piece, tumbled into the palm of his hand; he turned it over and it read "Prefect" in silver letters on a green background. He had seen a badge like this before, of course, as he had received one only a few years ago. Draco presumed that it was his, that Snape had salvaged it and sent it with him as a keep-sake. Squeezing it for a moment, Draco let out a sigh of regret, before tossing it into the drawers by the side of his bed.

It was dark outside by the time had ha found a home for the rest of the rubbish in his sack. Most of it went in the bin, but he had kept the tin of biscuits in case he ever got another pang of hunger during the night – last time he had heard something he shouldn't have. Feeling a wave of fatigue, he led on his bed with his arms behind his head. There was an old, faded poster of the Holyhead Harpies stuck on the ceiling, and the witches waved and winked at him flirtatiously. He smirked at them foppishly, causing them to giggle and whisper amongst themselves; the giggles soon turned to cries of indignation when he threw a scrunched up ball of parchment at them. He laughed bitterly.

Draco was suddenly disrupted from his teasing, when a knock came at his bedroom door. Sighing, he padded over to the door and opened it to reveal Granger. Her hair was scraped back in a bun, and her eyes were puffy and red – she had obviously been crying. Draco swallowed.

"Good evening." He said, to which she sniffed.

"Good evening. May I come in?" Draco nodded tersely, before going back into the room. He sat down on the bed and watched her, as she hovered nervously in the doorway. "I'm sorry that I haven't been around today. I've been…upset."

"Understandable." Draco whispered. "Your friends weren't very nice to you." She laughed resentfully, and came and joined him on the bed.

"I think you once said that I couldn't really call them my friends. You were right." Uncharacteristically, Draco reached out and took her hand.

"I'm sorry." She shrugged.

"They're assholes. I just don't know _why _they can't accept that you're my _friend_." Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Friend? To be truthful, love, we didn't seem much like _friends _when those idiots returned." Granger's eyes widened, and he suddenly realised what he had said. Fighting the urge to throw her from his room, he trained his eyes on the bed and let out a sigh. "I didn't mean – "

Before he could say anything else, she was kissing him again. He thought briefly about arguing, but nothing could induce him to. Her lips on his seemed to cut off all of his thoughts – all he could concentrate on was _her_. Still maintaining the contact, he moved onto his knees and she followed suit. Every inch of his body seemed to be pressed against hers, and every single complaint that had ever entered his head appeared to have left it again. Eventually she sighed, and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"I have wanted to kiss you all day, but I couldn't bring myself to…I thought you would be angry." He sat back, leaning against his pillows. She remained knelt up, looking down at him with a small anxious smile on her face.

"I am not angry at you, but only at them." He thought for a moment. "Do you still think they would be willing to send us abroad?" Granger bit her lip.

"I would like to say yes, but I doubt it; Harry wouldn't let me go, he'd find a way to stop me." She looked nervously around the room. "Besides…I need to be here now he's back." Draco shook his head in disbelief.

"I cannot believe you. I thought you would _hate _him after what he said to you – he called you a fool."

"I could never hate Harry…or Ron! They're my closest friends; they're like brothers to me. And whilst they want, no _need_, my help I'll stay. I'm sorry Malfoy, but I need to help Harry win this war. Maybe afterwards…well, maybe we could go abroad together then? On a holiday, or…?" Draco shook his head again.

"I won't live to see the end of this war Granger. You know that as well as I do. Now if you don't mind…I would like to go to sleep." She stood up, wringing her hands together.

"You're angry at me now, aren't you?"

"No. I would just like to be alone. Please leave."

* * *

_Wednesday 15__th__ April, 1998 (12:00pm)_

It was lunch time and, instead of being in the kitchen as usual, the whole of Grimmauld Place were gathered outside Draco Malfoy's bedroom door. Molly Weasley had her ear pressed tentatively against the door, as she regularly shushed the others. Granger stood just behind her, still wearing her dressing gown and pyjamas, and chewing at her lip nervously. She had woken up feeling guilty for the night before, and in a bid to make amends had gone to his room. After knocking and calling his name for fifteen minutes, she received no answer and went to get Molly to help her. An hour later, the other members of the house were still skirting around the idea of simply going into his room uninvited.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy, are you alright?"

"I think we can safely say he _isn't._" Granger snapped. "This is ridiculous! Can't we just go in? I'm…I'm worried." Molly looked at Lupin, who stood in front of Potter and Weasley as though trying to stop them from getting closer.

"I think we should let Hermione go in, Molly. If he's just ignoring us then there's no harm done, is there? But if there's something else going on…we need to know." Molly sighed and moved out of the way, letting Granger step closer to the door. She held her wand out in front of her and it wobbled, showing everyone how terribly her hands were shaking. Letting out a sigh, she turned the brass handle and pushed open the door.

The curtains were shut, the lights switched off, and Granger could clearly see Draco's form on the bed. He appeared to be lying on his back, above the covers, with one hand behind his head and the other loosely resting by his side. She approached his bed slowly and gently shook him, stepping back quickly as soon as contact had been made.

"Ma…Draco it's Hermione. Are you alright?" There was no response. He simply stayed still, his eyes focused glassily on the ceiling. Gulping, Granger leant down to check he was breathing – he was.

"Is he dead?" Molly shrieked from the corridor, causing Hermione to jump.

"No! He's just…he looks as though he's Petrified but I can't detect any spells on him." Slowly, she went and knelt by the side of the bed. As she did she spotted that he was clutching something in his hand, and cautiously she tried to open his fist to find out what it was. As soon as her fingertips brushed the object, Draco sat bolt upright in his bed. She fell backwards from the shock, as he slowly turned his head to look at her.

"Mudblood bitch." He spat; his voice seemed laced with poison. "Daughter of a filthy muggle whore." Hermione, pale-faced and stunned, gaped up at him.

"Draco I said I was sorry…I just don't think…"

"I'm surprised you can think at all; in fact, I'm shocked that your head hasn't caved in from the weight of your overly bushy hair. Silly mudblood." Hermione scrambled to her feet, before rushing over and shutting the bedroom door.

"I don't know why you're saying these things to me, but I know you'll regret them." She said icily. "There's something not quite right about you…what is it?" "I'm telling you what I really think of you. Your stupid friends were right – I am planning to give you over to my father. All those things I've said, those kisses…they meant nothing. You're still a silly, ugly, mudblood bitch."

Granger narrowed her eyes as Draco began to stand up. He looked unstable on his feet, his eyes were still glazed and glassy, and his voice seemed distant and odd. As he moved towards her, stumbling and swaying helplessly, the object he had had in his hand glinted in the slit of light that came through the curtains. She pointed her wand at it.

"_Accio_!" The object came flying towards her and landed in her hand. It was a Slytherin prefect badge, and it burned like fire in her palm.

"Give that to me." Draco said, coming to a stop. "_Now."_

"Why? What is it?" She demanded, squinting at it. "Why is it so important?"

"The most valuable possession I have." His voice was faltering now, becoming weaker by the second. "Worth my life….worth my soul…NO!" Draco's body jerked and he fell backwards onto the floor. "No! Get out of here Granger! Go! Worth your life…worth your soul…" Granger clutched the badge, hissing in pain; it was beginning to leave a mark, almost like a burn….but black.

"Worth your life? Worth your soul?" She muttered to herself, frowning.

Such an odd choice of words…such a peculiar little object. She stared at Draco, before looking back down at the badge. Worth your life…worth your soul…Suddenly it occurred to her. She looked down at the badge again, before tearing over to the door and ripping it open. They gaped at her helplessly, but Potter had noticed her hand.

"What's happening to you Hermione?" He yelled. "What _is_ that?"

"I think it's a _Horcrux_!" Hermione cried. "Draco had it…I'm not sure how or why but he did! We need to destroy it Harry. Do you have…?"

"I have a Basilisk fang. Do you think that would help? I already used it on the other one, but…"

"Yes!" She cried back, yelping. "If you don't hurry I'll end up like Draco…he's spouting all sorts of nonsense. Just…be quick." Harry leapt up the stairs, and returned only moments later with the Basilisk fang. Hermione had fallen to the floor, and was being cradled by Molly as she cried with the pain.

"Let go of the badge, Hermione." Harry demanded.

"I can't! I can't let go of it! It's stuck to my hand! I…" Harry dug his nails beneath the badge and, with all of his power, yanked it from her hand. She screamed in pain; howling and writhing as Molly tried to calm her. There came a thump from inside the room, and it was clear that Draco had fell to the floor. "Remus, help him!"

Harry threw the badge on the floor and knelt beside it, as the werewolf rushed into the bedroom. He held the fang high above his head, before bringing it swiftly down to meet the badge. He pierced it once, twice, thrice, before black smoke began billowing from it. Hermione had stopped shaking, and it seemed that Remus was talking to Draco inside the room. Harry looked at her, his green eyes full of remorse and regret.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" He asked tenderly. Hermione nodded.

"Yes. Is Malfoy okay? I need to speak to him. I want to know where he got that from." Remus appeared from the room, sighing wearily.

"He's alright now. Worn out, naturally; he's sleeping."

"Does he remember how he got that thing?" Potter asked, glaring at it. "Where did it come from?"

"We'll ask him later, Harry. He is understandably very distressed at the moment. I think Hermione should go and lie down too. She wasn't as badly affected, but a few moments longer and she would have been in the same state."

"We'll take her upstairs." Harry said quietly, nodding at Ron. Ron bent down and scooped her up into his arms, before the trio ascended the stairs.

* * *

_Wednesday 15__th__ April, 1998 (10:00pm)_

It had taken a lot of pleading to persuade Lupin to let him go. Draco, legs shaking, climbed the stairs to Granger's room with a feeling of dread. He wasn't certain how she would receive him now; was she angry, frightened upset? He wouldn't be surprised if she never wanted to speak to him again. If Draco had known what was going to happen when he held that badge, he would have thrown it into the fire. He had so many questions about it – why had Snape given it to him, what was it, and what did it do to him? He had arrived at Granger's door, and knocked on it with trepidation growing in his stomach. Potter answered it, but instead of anger and harsh words his face remained impassive.

"I thought we'd be seeing you this evening. Come in."

Granger was sat on the bed. She looked happy and well, if not a little bit pale. Weasley nodded at him tersely, and motioned to a chair at the bottom of the bed. Draco sat down, shifting nervously in his chair. He had the feeling that this would not continue to be a pleasant meeting – he was certain it would soon develop into a full-blown interrogation.

"How are you feeling?" Granger asked eagerly, smiling at him.

"Much better, thank you."

"Good. I thought you were dead." She stated bluntly. "You _looked _dead. Then I spoke to you and…it was scary."

"I apologise. I had no idea it was going to happen, or I wouldn't have touched that thing." Potter came towards him and his held the palm of his hand out.

"Do you mean this?" The badge sat on Potter's pale hand, looking simple and harmless. Draco gulped.

"Yes. I brought the pouch which I found it in." Draco looked nervously at them. "Could you tell me what it is?"

"It's a Horcrux." Weasley spat. "Another one of those bloody Horcruxes."

"How many have we found now?" Granger asked. "I know we had three before you went away, this one makes four, so…"

"We found another one whilst we were away – Hufflepuff's cup."

"Would you mind if I asked what each of them are and where you found them?" Draco asked. Potter looked at Hermione, who nodded.

"Well, the first was the diary which your bastard father gave to my sister." Weasley spat.

"The second was a ring, which Dumbledore found at the Gaunts' house." Hermione added.

"Third was the locket, which Hermione showed you and we found in your father's basement." Potter scowled at Granger, who simply smiled.

"Then I found the fourth."

"Yes. And only you can tell us where it came from." Hermione said eagerly. "Why didn't you tell me you had it?"

"I didn't know. It was in the sack I brought with me…in a small leather pouch. I'd never seen it before, but I'm guessing that Snape gave it to me."

"It must have been Riddle's prefect badge." Potter said, sighing. "So we have two left…"

"Another mysterious object and…" Granger took a deep breath. "My research, and some conjecture from Malfoy, leads us to believe that _Nagini _is the final Horcrux."

"The _snake_?" Weasley demanded. "Isn't that a bid…stupid? It's a living thing – it could have got killed countless times. In fact, we saw it when we were in Russia. I could have killed that slimy bastard." Granger smiled.

"What are we going to do about the other unknown object?" She asked. "Look for it? I don't really know what I could be…I've thought of almost everything…"

"I guess we'll just have to wait for it to turn up again. This one did." Potter looked at Draco, his green eyes narrowed. "It looks like you're going to be far more useful than I thought you would be." Granger beamed. "But that doesn't mean I trust you."


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: A huge thank you to everyone who read/reviewed the last chapter! Hopefully this one will please just as much. I must warn you, however, that there is character death._

_

* * *

_

"_Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, __  
__And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:"_

_Tuesday 28__th__ April, 1998_

After the discovery of the fifth Horcrux, Grimmauld Place had lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Draco's daily meetings with Granger now included Weasley and Potter, and there was no conversation besides that of Horcruxes. Draco wondered sometimes, when he watched her reading, if she missed their old meetings; she didn't seem to be that bothered, what with Potter and Weasley's change of behaviour. She seemed, now, to have everything she had wanted – and Draco didn't appear to be that important anymore.

It was hotter than average that day and Draco was, for once, alone with Granger. Draco sat by the open window in the library, resting his head against the pane as a bead of sweat trickled onto the clear glass. Granger sat on the sofa behind him, wearing shorts and a t-shirt and absent-mindedly fanning herself with a piece of parchment. It wasn't _especially _hot, Draco was sure the rest of London weren't suffering like this, but in Grimmauld Place weather only seemed to be exaggerated – when it was cold, they found ice on the window frames, and when it was hot…it was boiling.

"I'm not going to be around later this evening." Granger said, putting the parchment down on the arm of the chair. "There's something important happening after dinner." Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"Will I be required to attend?"

"No it's…no." She sighed. "I tried to persuade them to let you, but – "

"Potter didn't want me there?" She leant forwards in her chair and rolled her eyes at him.

"_No_. Remus thought it would be too dangerous. I don't know why you're always so quick to jump to the conclusion that Harry doesn't want you there!"

"Because it's usually true." The library door opened and Remus' stepped into the room; he nodded at Draco and smiled at Granger.

"Could you come downstairs a moment, Hermione? There's a meeting." Granger stood up, slyly tugging down her shorts which had risen up.

"Can we discuss this heat whilst we're there? It really is getting ridiculous." She said, walking towards the door. Remus let out a sigh.

"We've tried everything we can think of." He replied, whilst shutting the door. "I've finally come to the conclusion that Mrs Black used some kind of _charm_…"

Draco lost track of the time, as he sat upstairs alone in the library. Granger did not return, and nobody came to call him for dinner. At eight O'clock he ventured downstairs, trying with great difficulty to hide his fear. It seemed odd to him that the house was so quiet; it was usually a hive of activity, and one could always guarantee that Molly would pop in at some point during the evening. After finding the kitchen empty, he began to frantically check each of the other downstairs rooms. He was alone. Fear swelled in him, rising like the bile that stung the back of his throat. As he walked towards the front door, a slip of parchment appeared from nowhere. He recognised Granger's handwriting instantly, and anxiously read the note.

"We had to leave earlier than planned – I'm sorry. Please just stay in the house, don't do anything stupid. And if we don't come back: run. Molly says, however, that there's no point in worrying about that and that there's chicken in the oven. Don't eat it all. Granger."

Sighing, Draco trudged back into the kitchen. He took the chicken from the oven and took a leg, and also procured himself some mead from the cupboard. He knew it belonged to Lupin, but wasn't too worried that he would be annoyed. Sitting alone in the house unnerved him; he hadn't been alone in a very long time. In fact, Draco realised that he had never been on his own since his induction into the Death Eaters. The thought sent a shiver of fear down his spine, and he took a brutal bite from the chicken leg. As he sat in contemplative silence, he took the opportunity to think about where they had gone. It was clearly a fight of some sort – he would no doubt have come into contact with his father, or other Death Eaters, if he had gone too. It riled him that he had been forced to stay behind; he would have leapt at the chance to face his father, to shoot a few hexes…but then, he supposed that was _why_ they had made him stay. Sighing, he dropped the chicken bone onto the pewter plate with a clatter and, at the same moment, he heard the front door bang.

Ignoring his first instincts to stay frozen to the spot, he leapt to his feet and ran to the entrance hall. Lupin and Mad-Eye charged through the door; Mad-Eye's arm was bleeding profusely, and Lupin was helping him to the kitchen. To get out of the way, Draco stepped onto the first stair and watched from over the banister. His grip on the wood tightened as more people came flooding into the house; his knuckles were growing white, his nails digging into the wood. Others staggered into the house – bleeding, screaming, and crying. People he recognised, people he didn't, but all of them hurt. It was like a battle scene in the hallway. His heart thudded in his chest as the continuous flow of people seemed it would never come to end. The Weasleys, Potter, Lovegood, McGonagall, Hagrid, Shacklebolt, Longbottom…where was Granger? He felt as though he could be sick with the fear. An agonised cry ripped throughout the house, and Draco's head whipped round to see Mrs Weasley thrown over a body. She was sobbing, her hands grabbing a white shirt that was seeped with blood. It was Mr Weasley. His fear was making his knees shake, and he felt that they could've given way when he saw her standing in the doorway.

She saw him instantly, and their eyes met across the throng of people that stood in the hallway. Her eye was bruised, her hair was ruffled and there was a streak of blood across her cheek; she looked weary, but it appeared that she was alright. Potter and Weasley appeared behind her, both of them looking similarly drained and tousled. Potter's eyes met his, and Draco had to turn away. He felt responsible for this carnage. He was accountable for all of these people's lives, even if he hadn't even been there. His father, his former friends, people who he had heralded as heroes…they had done this. His stomach turned again, and the bile rose once more into his throat. Without speaking, Granger wove her way through the people and stepped up onto the stair with him. She took his hand and squeezed it gently, and Draco felt the dirt and blood sticking to the palm of his hand. Granger didn't say anything to him, but her eyes met his with a silent plea. He was about to turn, to lead her up the stairs but he felt a tug to stop. McGonagall had placed her hand on Granger's shoulder.

"Will you be alright, Miss Granger? Do you think you are able to…?"

"Yes." Granger stated, her voice sounding hollow. "Will I need to be seen by a Healer?" McGonagall nodded stiltedly.

"You will be one of the last. I shall send somebody upstairs, in an hour or so." Granger nodded, before turning to Draco once more.

They went into his bedroom, but neither of them sat down. Granger leant against the door and closed her eyes, her brown hair fanning out like a halo behind her head. She sighed gently, before opening her eyes and composing herself.

"Malfoy…" She started; her voice cracked. "Draco…I have something that I think...you should know that…I…" He moved forwards and took her hands in his, stroking them with his thumbs.

"Who is it, Hermione?" He whispered, frowning. "My father? My…my mother?" He saw a pearl-like tear tumble down her cheek and fall onto the collar of her t-shirt.

"Your mother. I'm…I'm so sorry." He brought his forehead down to meet hers, and closed his eyes as the agony of loss washed over him. He felt empty inside, as images of his mother swam in his head.

"How did she die?" He asked; his voice wobbling. "Was she in a lot of pain?"

"N…no…it was quick…she…I…"

"My father did it, didn't he?" She nodded, yelping with a poorly suppressed sob.

"She tried to come to us, Draco. She was shouting your name, she…she wanted to see you…"

It was too much for him. The tears and the pain he had been trying to hard to withhold erupted from him. His body began to shake with the force of the emotion, and he buried his face into her shoulder and cried like a baby. Soothingly, she rubbed his back and hushed him, but he could feel the wetness of her tears splashing onto his neck. He wasn't certain how long they stood like that, but he finally stopped crying when his bones were stiff and his eyes itched. Sighing, he pulled away from her and led her over to the bed. She sat down, before transfiguring a sock into a bowl and conjuring water and a facecloth. Before she could clean her hands and face, Draco took the cloth from her and did it for her, gently wiping away the blood and dirt and grit. Granger's eyes were closed, and she breathed deeply and heavily.

"I loved my mother." He said; his voice still thick with emotion. "Of everyone I have ever known, it was only my mother who understood me. No one has ever come close."

"What was she like, Draco? I've only met her once or twice and, well, we didn't really get along." Draco laughed gruffly.

"No, she didn't really get on with anybody – I wouldn't be too offended. My mother was everything a pureblood witch should be. She was beautiful, elegant, and_ dutiful_." He spat that word as though it were filthy. "But she was also just an ordinary person, not that my father ever tried to look for that. She liked to collect tea sets…I was fascinated with them when I was a child. Her favourite set was exquisite; ivory, embossed with gold flowers."

"That sounds lovely."

"It was. She liked to read too." He smiled at Hermione. "Anything she could get her hands on; be it fictional, non-fictional…she even had a secret stash of Shakespeare sonnets." Draco laughed then.

"Did she have a favourite sonnet too?"

"Yes, number 55. Do you know it?" Hermione smiled weakly.

"Of course." She cupper his face in her hands, stroking the jaw-line with her fingers. "Not marble, nor the gilded monuments of princes…" She whispered.

"Yes, that's it." He replied, closing his eyes "She would read it to me sometimes, when my father was out."

"I'm so sorry…" Hermione said quietly, sighing. "So sorry…"

"I was worried about you. I thought you might not come back, and I…"

"Hush. I think we should sleep now. I think you and I should lie down, sleep a while." He nodded, and together they led back on the bed.

"You'll stay with me?"

"Of course – I won't leave you."

He led in her arms, but neither of them slept. Draco's eyes stayed trained on the ceiling – the Holyhead Harpies poster was empty, the witches had clearly chosen to leave them alone. He felt that he had more to say, more that he _had _to say before he could sleep.

"Are you awake, Hermione?" He whispered, and felt her nod in response. "I…I just need you to know how much I…how much I _hate _my father. I've always disliked him, always wished that he had just left my mother and me alone but now…now I _loathe _him. I want him dead, Hermione. I won't rest until he is dead." Hermione sighed, nodding.

"And I'll help you. We'll do it for your mother, Draco, and for you." He kissed her then, shortly and tenderly, before closing his eyes and letting sleep come over him like a wave.

* * *

_Author's note: Here is the rest of sonnet 55. I thought it was very apt for this chapter._

_Sonnet 55  
by William Shakespeare_

_Not marble, nor the gilded monuments  
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;  
But you shall shine more bright in these contènts  
Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.  
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,  
And broils root out the work of masonry,  
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn  
The living record of your memory.  
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity  
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room  
Even in the eyes of all posterity  
That wear this world out to the ending doom.  
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,  
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes._


	11. Chapter 11

_If you can make one heap of all your winnings__  
__And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,_

_Monday 4__th__ May 1998_

The funerals of Arthur Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy took place on the same day. Draco was not permitted to attend either of them. He watched as the rest of the house left in solemn silence, wishing he could go with them. It didn't seem right that these people, who had neither known nor liked his mother, were to be the only people in attendance at her funeral. Before they left, Lupin stopped to speak to him. He nodded at him sympathetically, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you can't come to your mother's funeral, Draco, but you have to understand why."

"I doubt my father is going to turn up." Draco spat. "He murdered her, so he's hardly going to play the grieving widower, is he?"

"We can't let you come…I'm sorry." He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, before going out the door.

He waited for them in the kitchen and realised that it was the second time in a week he had waited there. The time passed slowly, as he lazily followed the whorls and dints in the table with his delicate fingers. Draco hadn't even known they were home, until the kitchen door opened and Granger walked in with Lupin close behind. She sat at the table and focused her eyes on him steadily. It was clear she had been crying; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes red and puffy.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy asked quietly.

"As alright as one can be in the circumstances." She replied, sighing. "I've had an idea. I didn't think it was fair…it wasn't _right _that you weren't allowed to attend your mother's funeral. No Death Eaters arrived, and if they had we could have kept you safe." Her eyes flicked to Lupin, who let out a discomfited sigh.

"I agree with Miss Granger, and together we have devised a…plan to allow you to visit your mother's grave."

Draco sat in stunned silence for a moment. It was something he both wanted, but also was reluctant to do. He wanted to know where his mother would finally be resting; he wanted to see what it looked like to be free from the grasp of his father. Granger reached out and put a hand on his arm, smiling warmly.

"Remus and I will take you there tomorrow, but you can be alone when you get there…we'll go for a walk nearby or something. You can have as long as you like, too." Hermione smiled more widely. "Remus even agreed to take us to a coffee shop afterwards." Draco looked at Remus, who was also smiling at him.

"Thank you very much, sir. My gratitude…" Remus nodded understandingly, before leaving the room. When they were alone, Draco let out a fatigued sigh. She gently squeezed his arm again.

"Are _you _alright?" She asked.

"I suppose. Not that any of _you lot _care how I feel. In fact, you have hardly spoken to me on the matter." He slipped lower into his chair. Hermione made a scoff of disgust, folding her arms testily.

"You don't seem very grateful for this opportunity." She snapped. "You seem even more miserable, if I may say so."

"I would rather you didn't say a thing." He retorted, equally as snappy. "You seem to talk _all the time_. Can you never simply be …_quiet_?"

He was disappointed when she did not respond. Draco desperately wanted to take his anger out on someone and she had been making it easy for him. Gracefully, she stood up and smoothed down her coat, as he calmly watched her; it was a moment filled with unease, but Draco was oddly appreciative. She made a movement of response, but simply opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. After another moment of silence, she spoke.

"I understand why you're doing this Draco, so I'm not going to respond. You're upset and it's understandable – but please don't push me away." He sniffed haughtily, and she smiled slightly. "Come on, I know you've got a tin of biscuits in your bedroom – let's go and share them." Their eyes met and, for a moment, he was going to refuse. All of the energy for fighting left him, however, and he smiled back.

"Good idea. Come on then."

* * *

_Tuesday 5__th__ May 1998_

The official war cemetery had been created just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. When you stood at the top of the hill, you could see the lake and the magical turrets of the school. Draco let out a wistful sigh as he stood there, feeling a tug of longing in his chest. It was early in the morning and a light fog hovered over the castle and the village, making it look even more ethereal than normal. He jumped a little as Granger's hand slipped into his, and he felt his face turn pink as Lupin noticed and turned away.

"It's just there…" She whispered, pointing towards a tree in the distance. "Remus and I will stay here if…"

Cutting her off, he let go of her hand and set off down the hill. The gravestone was plain and simple; white with his mother's name carved into it. Draco felt a stirring of something which he couldn't identify; he wasn't sure if it was grief, or simply a feeling of discomfort that he was standing near his mother's body. Sighing, his breath hitching in his throat, he knelt down by the stone and placed a hand on it – the stone was cool on his skin, and he shuddered with the feel of it. As he knelt, he spotted something from the corner of his eye. A small ornate box stood at the foot of the grave, and Draco shuddered as he recognised it instantly. Clutching the box in his hand, he stood up and waved to Granger, beckoning her over.

"What is it?" She asked, after running down the hill to him. "You look as though you've seen a ghost…"

He gestured to the trinket sitting on the palm of his hand, glittering faintly in the sun. It was a beautiful little thing, and Granger greeted it with a gasp of admiration.

"I guess, in a way, I have." He said quietly.

"Where did you find that? What's inside?" Malfoy looked sketchily around the field, before slipping the item into his pocket.

"Not now. I'll tell you when we get back to the house, but we'll need to be alone."

Back at Grimmauld Place, the pair of them sat in the library as they used to. Granger had dismissed Potter and Weasley and Draco was enjoying being alone with her, although all of her efforts were concentrated on the tiny box on the table. Draco had opened it and laid the contents at the side; there was a small chain with an amulet attached to it, and a tiny scroll of parchment which he had yet to open. Granger looked at him inquisitively, and he cleared his throat as he picked up the chain.

"About three years ago my mother gave this as a gift to someone." He said quietly. "She wanted to protect him, believed that at some point in his life he would be in dire need of this amulet and the defence it would bring him."

"Your father?"

"No. My father very much disapproves of things like this, and he was in a terrible jealous rage when he found out. This was a gift to _Severus Snape_." Hermione sat back in the chair, letting out a surprised gasp.

"How do you suspect it got to your mother's grave? Why did you think it was put there?" Draco picked up the scroll of parchment and squinted at it.

"I presume we'll find out from this."

Trying to keep his hands steady, he fumbled with the delicate parchment and unravelled the scroll. The scrawling handwriting was instantly recognisable, and he felt his stomach clench with a whole mélange of emotions. Slowly, he handed the note to Granger and watched her face as she read it. The words were simply; it said 'Use it wisely. Severus'.

"Are you in contact with him?" She demanded angrily, slamming the parchment on the table. It was not the reaction he had been expecting; she looked absolutely furious." I can't believe you would put us in jeopardy by – "

"I'm not in contact with him." Draco interrupted shortly. "I haven't spoken to him since the day he brought me here. The only time I've tried to contact him was when you sent the letter…that's it." Granger bit on her bottom lip, thinking over what he had just told her. It seemed the ideal chance to ask her a favour; something that had been preying on his mind, but that he had been trying to push away. She seemed to realise that something was bothering him, as she looked directly into his eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"I need to know where he is, Granger." He let out a shaky sigh. "I know you don't understand; you only see him as a traitor and a murderer. But he's important to me – he's my godfather and my friend."

He watched silently as Granger chewed the inside of her cheek. Suddenly he was regretting telling her the way he felt. How would she be able to help him? She wasn't even willing to _talk _about Snape, let alone put Draco in contact with him. He let out a sigh, shaking his head.

"I'll see what I can do." She blurted. "They won't be very forthcoming…but I can try."

"Thank you. For everything."

And he really meant it.

* * *

_Tuesday 19__th__ May 1998_

Draco waited impatiently, although he was not certain what he was waiting for. It was unlikely that Snape would appear from nowhere; that he would knock on the door one day and everything would be alright. Draco would not have been surprised if he did not see Snape ever again. Granger suddenly came into the attic, interrupting his thoughts with an unnecessary bang of the door. She sat down on the dusty rug, cross-legged, and looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you alright?" It was barely a whisper. The tenderness of the question infuriated him; he was suddenly filled with the burning idea that he did not _want _her there.

"I was better alone."

She sighed wearily, letting her thick curls cover her face.

"I wish you would just let me in…We were becoming so close…it's like two steps forward, one step back with you."

"I do not wish to discuss it."

Granger rubbed the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. He knew that he was upsetting her; he had been since they had found the amulet. Sub-consciously, his pale hand hovered up to the chain that he wore around his neck. It was a piece of black onyx, smooth and round, attached to a silver chain. Draco kept it tucked underneath his shirt, hoping that it would keep him safe, but also bring him closer to Snape.

"Draco…" She said quietly. "I spoke to Lupin about Snape." His head whipped up, and his eyes found hers almost immediately. He lurched forwards onto his knees, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"What did they say? Will they bring him here?"

"No. I…he's missing Draco. The Death Eaters are talking about it, The Order are talking about it…he's just disappeared…"

Draco fell backwards with a thump. All the blood had drained from his face, and he suddenly felt tired. Granger reached out a hand to touch him, but he swatted it away. He did not need her comforting now. She hated Snape; she didn't even care if he was dead or alive.

"He _can't _be dead, Granger…he just can't."

"I know it's going to be hard for you, Draco, especially as you've just lost your mother. But you need – "

"No! You don't understand! He is our only hope for the wizarding world! If he is dead…then we _all _are."

She sat in silence for a moment, as though trying to understand this shock revelation. He watched as she ran her fingers through her bushy hair, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed. He seemed to enjoy her confusion; the look of bafflement on her face made his heart flip. It was an odd phenomenon, which he had no wish to explore. Eventually, she looked at him. He saw reluctance in her eyes, but he knew she would listen. Her insatiable curiosity always overwhelmed everything else.

"Explain…please…"

"Dumbledore was dying before Snape killed him, before I was even planning to kill him. The Gaunt ring…it was cursed; he put it on, but Snape managed to prevent the curse from spreading. Dumbledore knew I was planning to kill him…he asked Snape to do it instead. Snape never had a choice. _He did not have a choice_. He was working for The Order the whole time. Still is, if he's still alive."

"But…but why does that make him our only hope?"

"There were other things…things he wouldn't tell me. He and Dumbledore had a plan all along; they knew what was going to happen. That's why we need him, Granger…he knows how to save us all."

* * *

_Author's Note: No! Your eyes are not deceiving you! This is in fact the latest chapter of If! I'm hoping it isn't too much of a disappointment after so long a wait, and i hope you'll all do me the honour of leaving some reviews! The next installment will be available shortly; it's the summer holidays, so i have bags of time just to devote to my writing! :D Thanks! _


	12. Chapter 12

_And lose, and start again at your beginnings__  
__And never breathe a word about your loss__;_

_Friday 5__th__ June 1998_

"Happy birthday." Granger said cautiously, sliding a parcel across the floor with her wand. She sat in the chair by the fire, biting her lip as he picked it up.

"How did you know? I don't make a practice of telling people."

"You told us when you were under the influence of Veritaserum. I have a good memory for things like that." He touched the stripy wrapping paper gently; hiding his pleased smile with a smirk. With the same amount of care, he tugged the red bow and the wrapping fell away to reveal a bottle of Ogden's Finest. He was impressed by her charm; it had hidden the distinct shape of the bottle excellently.

"Thank you. I don't often drink, but I'll make an exception."

He conjured two glasses; pouring one for himself, and one for her. She sipped the whiskey, before screwing up her face in mild disgust. Draco downed his, without showing any emotion on his face.

"In the muggle world, you only come of age when you're eighteen. That's the age you can drink too, so it's a custom to purchase alcohol for an eighteenth birthday. Then, of course, the recipient often drinks until they're drunk. " Draco poured himself another glass.

"I must maintain the tradition then!" Granger took another delicate sip.

"Forgive me if I don't join you."

For a few moments, they sat without talking. Silence was rare in Grimmauld Place at that moment in time. According to Lupin, the war had 'stepped up a gear', although they hardly felt the effects of it in the safety of the house. Granger checked every day if they had heard anything about Snape. He was grateful for it, of course, but the same answer of "no, and if we had we wouldn't tell you" disappointed and surprised him. He expected Granger to be told everything. Apparently, however, this was not the case. According to Granger, you had to be a sworn in member of the Order of the Phoenix. Breaking the silence by placing his glass on the floor, Draco let out a sigh.

"What exactly _is _The Order of the Phoenix?"

"A group of people who joined together, under Dumbledore, to fight You-Know-Who. Formally, it's a secret society, but the public are all aware of its existence."

"And how do you qualify to join? There hasn't been an initiation ceremony whilst I've been here…"

Granger suddenly looked a little sheepish. She rubbed anxiously at her neck, her cheeks flushing. Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. She was hiding something, he could tell.

"You have to request to become a member." She stated. "Then to be approved for the initiation, a current member has to sponsor you. That's all I know."

"Don't lie." He drawled teasingly. "I know that you are hiding something. You are an appalling liar." She let out a flustered sigh.

"Alright! I wasn't supposed to mention it…but Harry, Ron and I are getting initiated next week! It means we'll be able to do something _really _worthwhile, because we'll know everything!"

Draco's heart seemed to skip a beat. An idea suddenly occurred to him which, were it to come to fruition, would be successful in more ways than one. If he was to join the Order, he would be able to find Snape. He would not have to rely on Granger, or anyone else, for he would have the information and power to do it himself. And in the interest of self-preservation, he would not be arrested or tried for anything as a member of the Order. It seemed, to him, a perfect solution.

"I want to join." He blurted, not even bothering to maintain composure. He knew that the pleading was clear in his voice, but he also knew she would not mock him for it.

"Are…are you sure that would be wise?" His mood darkened.

"What? Do you believe me to be incapable? Or am I simply not good enough for your Order? You still do not trust me?"

"Of course I trust you!" She cried imploringly. "But won't it put you in more danger?"

"No. If anything, I believe it would make me safer."

Granger fell into silence to consider this. She looked discomfited but thoughtful, and as she gave a weary sigh, he knew he had won. He tried to retain his triumph, as she gave him a curt nod.

"You're right. You've been a great help to me, to all of us. You should suggest it at the initiation; I bet Remus would sponsor you." She grinned suddenly. "The more I think about it, the more I think it's only fair."

"Potter and Weasley won't like it." She rolled her eyes with a small sigh.

"When do they ever like _anything _involving you?"

* * *

_Thursday 11__th__ June 1998_

Draco had never seen Grimmauld Place so full before. The usually too-large kitchen seemed fit to burst, as various members of the Order of The Phoenix had packed themselves inside it. Granger flung open the door, accidentally knocking over Professor Flitwick, and she blushed prettily as she apologised. Their desired quiet entrance, therefore, was disrupted, as Potter laid eyes on Draco.

"What the bloody hell is he doing here, Hermione? We _told _you he wasn't invited!"

"It's impossible to hide it from him, Harry! He _lives _here; surely he would've noticed when he came down to get a cup of tea?" Remus casually waved his hand.

"You're right Hermione. Take a seat quickly, both of you, we need to start."

The room was darkened, and candles were lit around the whole room. It all seemed very magical and mystical. Draco thought it was over the top. The initiation ceremony itself was very dull indeed. It was full of more melodrama; Latin chants, impressive charm work and sombre faces all round. Granger was pleased though. Her face was flushed and she smiled pleasantly at everyone there – Draco couldn't help but smile back, she looked lovely. Just as Remus was about to formally close the ceremony, Granger made eye-contact with him and leapt to her feet.

"I think Draco should be permitted to join!" She blurted, smiling slightly. "He's lived here almost a year…he should join us, help with the war effort."

Potter was shaking his head vigorously, looking as though he might be sick. Draco should have known that someone would object; he just hoped that someone would sponsor him too. He looked up at Granger, who was still smiling around the room encouragingly. For an odd reason, he felt a swell of pride. She still seemed to believe that someone would agree with her, even though the room sat in silence. Suddenly, someone spoke up. Molly Weasley.

"I agree, dear." She said quietly. "Draco should be permitted to join. I shall sponsor him."

"I agree too." Remus added. "Even though only one sponsor is necessary, I must declare my support." Granger made the thumbs up sign at Draco across the room, and he bowed his head in thanks towards his sponsors. Once again, he felt a swell of pride.

As Draco led in bed that night, the most recent member of The Order of the Phoenix, he could not help but reflect on the past twelve months of his life. He was certain that the others were aware of the significance of this date – they had held the initiation then, after all. It was exactly a year since Dumbledore's death. Twelve months ago, Draco and Snape fled the castle after committing the most heinous of crimes. At the time, he had thought that it was the end. Draco was not able to see a way how he could ever possibly survive. He had been wrong. He had been saved.

If someone had stopped him as he escaped that night, and told him not to worry, for Hermione Granger would save him, he would have shot them with a curse. But it was true; he could no longer deny it. He was certain that, if Granger had not been at Grimmauld Place with him, he would have slowly gone insane. Of course, Draco would never admit this to anyone – especially not her. He would prefer it if she never found out how he really felt. It was easier now, this way, to pretend that there was nothing between them. She had asked him once if he still hated Muggleborns, if he hated her. He found now, more than ever before, that he did not hate her. In fact, his feelings had never been so distant from those that his father had tried to instil in him. As he led there in the dark, his father was no more than a distant memory. A blip. A shadow. An insignificant shadow.

* * *

_Friday 12__th__ June 1998_

It was the first Order meeting. Once more, the kitchen was full of members; most of whom Draco had never met before. Granger greeted them pleasantly, mostly making apprehensive enquiries after their wellbeing and that of their families. Draco sat in stoic silence next to her, wanting the meeting to start so he could hear what was really going on. To begin with, the subject matter did not interest him at all. They were talking about names and faces that he did not recognise situations which he had not been a part of and secrets which, even now, he was not privy to. However, his interest became piqued when the subject came to Snape.

It was no longer Remus who led the meeting. Mad-Eye Moody carried a muggle folder, which contained a huge wad of parchment. He dropped it onto the table with a bang, as his magical eye whizzed around the room.

"The next issue for discussion is Severus Snape. I understand that this is unpleasant for many of you, but it has been flagged as a topic of great importance." His magical eye looked at Granger and Lupin, but his normal eye focused on Draco. "The bastard is missing. No one has seen hide nor hair of him for months. We need to find him. I would feel much safer in my bed if I knew where the murderous git was, and I'm sure you'd all agree. Therefore, I'm looking for suggestions of how to find him."

Draco looked around the room anxiously, waiting for someone to speak out. He hoped that one of them would have a plan, a way for him to find Snape. He needed there to be, even though they didn't understand.

"I think we should send the person who knows him best." Lupin stated simply.

"And who do you suggest that is, Remus?" Potter snapped darkly.

"Draco. It seems, to me, to be the only logical choice." Surprisingly, there were no remarks of objection. Everyone seemed to be nodding thoughtfully, approving of the suggestion.

"But he couldn't go alone!" Molly exclaimed.

"Of course not!" Granger interjected. "I wouldn't allow it – I'll go with him."

It was to this that people objected. Seemingly, Draco endangering himself was nothing compared to Granger. He jumped a little as he felt the reassuring warmth of her hand. She was squeezing his hand again, sending that odd little impulse of pride to flood his nerves.

"Where would you look for him?" Tonks asked, as she scribbled notes on a piece of parchment.

"His home." Draco mumbled. "Where his parents used to live…if I was to find any trace of him, it would be there." Hermione nodded.

"I know where it is! I researched Eileen Prince last year, for personal curiosity," she flashed a look at Potter, "and found out so much about her! There are plenty of places we could look! Draco and I are more than capable for the job." Moody looked a little unsettled as Tonks spoke.

"What is the verdict, boss? Are they going or aren't they? We need to stamp it to make it official…"

"Stamp it Nymphadora. They're going."

* * *

_Author's Note: Again, i must apologise for the delay in posting this chapter! It's the summer holidays, and i've been crazily busy with one thing or another! Of course, we return to sixth form on Monday, so the delays look set to continue! Do not worry, i will not abandon this story! Thank you for all readers and reviewers of the last chapter, please repeat the courtesy for this one! :D _


	13. Chapter 13

"_If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew__  
__To serve your turn long after they are gone,_

_And so hold on when there is nothing in you__  
__Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'"_

_Wednesday 17__th__ June, 1998_

Hermione burst into Draco's bedroom, closing the door behind her and locking it with a quick wave of her wand. She walked over and threw something onto the bed next to him; two bottles full of a murky-looking potion.

"Is that…?" Hermione smiled, nodding.

"Yes. I brewed it myself a month ago and hid it, just in case I'd ever need it."

"Does it have hair in it?"

"Yes. One has the hair of a muggle man, the other of a muggle woman. We'll have one hour to go and look for him." She sat down on the bed and began inspecting the potion, as Draco watched her.

"Are you sure you want to come? I realise I'm asking a lot of you…"

"Not at all. I have to do _something – I'm_ going insane pent up here." Draco laughed.

"I know the feeling." Smiling, she extended one of the potions towards him.

"Do you think tonight will be alright?" Draco nodded slowly.

"I suppose there isn't any point in putting it off."

At 9 0'clock, Draco went off to his room as he usually did and Hermione went with him. Nobody was really that surprised and only Ron reacted, with a disgruntled sneer at them. Hermione swigged the potion with a pinched expression on her face, as Draco gulped it down without so much as a grimace. They began to change, and Hermione became a very demure-looking middle-aged woman. Draco was a very fat, moustached man with a receding hairline, which caused Hermione to giggle.

"Are we ready then?" She asked. "We have an hour to get there and back. I have Harry's invisibility cloak, so we shouldn't have a problem leaving unnoticed."

"How did you get it?" Draco asked, admiring it as she handed it to him.

"I just went into his room and took it. He is surprisingly terrible when it comes to security; you would never guess that he has a mass murdered after him! Come on, any longer and the potion will be wearing off."

Spinner's End was in darkness when they arrived, and Hermione shuddered when she saw the destitution of the place. Draco had his hand resting on his belt, covering his wand just in case he needed it; he wouldn't let Hermione get hurt. They advanced slowly towards the terraced houses, crossing the stream and making their way to the most dilapidated house.

"Is that it?" Hermione whispered. "That's his home?"

"Yes, but it's been destroyed since I was last here." Draco approached it gingerly, and began murmuring spells under his breath at the door.

"Do you really think he could be here? Because I'm not sure. They might be watching it Draco, waiting for us to come…"

When the detective spells produced no responses, Draco lightly placed his hand on the door and pushed it open. They stepped into the hallway of the house, and were instantly hit by the smell of rot. Hermione repressed a gag, covering her mouth and nose with a handkerchief that she produced from her pocket.

"Where shall we go?" She asked, wincing. "I just want to get out of here as soon as possible.

"Perhaps we should go and look at his study? There might be something in there – a clue of some sort."

Treading carefully, Hermione followed Draco as they walked further into a house. They entered a small room that was lined with bookcases and looked out onto an untidy yard. Granger tentatively pulled open the top drawer of the desk, and began to rifle through the papers as Draco inspected the bookshelves. Suddenly, Granger let out a hiss of pain and swiftly withdrew her hand from the drawer.

"What is it?" Draco demanded, rushing to her side. "What's the matter?"

"My hand…it felt like it was on fire. I think there's been some kind of curse put on this room Draco. I want to leave right now – I think we've put ourselves in danger…"

"Astute as always, Miss Granger."

Draco spun around, withdrawing his wand. Lucius Malfoy stood behind him, leaning against the door frame and smiling menacingly. He looked deranged, and Hermione felt a tingle of fear run down her spine. In the moonlight, the similarity between him and Draco was uncanny. It unnerved Granger a little, but she pushed away the thought. "Ah Draco, what a pleasant surprise."

"Father." Draco's voice was steely and clipped; laced with menace, but not quite managing to pull it off. "I would say the same, but it would be a lie." Lucius sighed and gently ran his finger along the length of his wand, looking casually nonchalant.

"You always tended towards the melodramatic Draco. You are more like your mother than I originally thought." Draco's grip on his wand tightened.

"I heard what you did to her!" He growled, suddenly full of rage. "What sort of a bastard kills his own wife?"

"The same that kills his own son."

In the same instant, both Draco and Hermione lurched forwards. They were prevented by an invisible shield, which threw them both backwards onto the floor. "I have a gift for your little mudblood friend." Lucius clicked his fingers, and Crabbe and Goyle appeared holding a struggling woman. Draco tried furiously to see if he recognised her, but Granger's reaction told him who it was.

"Mum?" The writhing woman stopped suddenly and gaped at Hermione.

"Hermione! My darling! Let me go, I say! _Let me go_!" Hermione was crying and reaching her hand out towards her mother, but the shield was stopping her. Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and tried pulling her back, all to Lucius' amusement.

"Don't you like surprises? How terribly sad."

"Let her go…_please_. I'll do anything…_anything_." Lucius sneered at Hermione, and then turned to Draco.

"What shall I have her do, son? Kill herself? Kill you? What would be the best way to see her suffer…?"

"Father, don't!" Lucius chuckled, shaking his head miserably.

"What a spectacle this has turned out to be! When did you become so devoted to your mudblood bitch?"

"Don't talk to my daughter like that!" Lucius motioned with his hand, and the two lackeys threw her to the ground.

"I shall make you a deal, Miss Granger. Give yourself over to me, and your mother will walk free. How does that satisfy you?" Draco looked at her, his eyes wide with fear.

"Don't…"

"I'll do it!" Hermione stepped forwards. "I'll do it. You can take me and free my mother."

"No!" Her mother let out a high-pitched scream. "No Hermione! Leave, find safety, don't give yourself to him."

"Mum…I can't…"

"Just go Hermione." Her mother said weakly. "Whilst you can. Go with this friend of yours, and don't let this man win."

Draco clutched onto Hermione's arm and was beginning to tug her away, as Lucius laughed bitterly.

"How quaint! A mother's sacrifice."

"Granger, come on…" Hermione was sobbing, holding her arm out towards her mother.

"I love you, mum!"

"And I love you!"

Lucius laughed louder, as Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione in preparation for apparation. Just as they were about to leave, they heard a whispered curse. The last thing Hermione saw before she left was a flash of brilliant emerald light.

* * *

_Thursday 18__th__ June, 1998. Early morning_

Hermione sat with Draco on his bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she sobbed into his chest. The last image of her mother, knelt in the dirt with her arm outstretched, would stay with Draco forever. Lucius had killed both of their mothers with coldness. It made Draco furious; his hands were shaking with rage, and he could have screamed. Granger gripped onto his bicep, her fingernails digging into the skin as her chest heaved with the crying.

"Shhh…" Draco tried to soothe her, although he didn't really know how to. "They'll hear you."

"What am I going to do?" She sobbed. "My mother…dead. Where's my father? What about a funeral? The rest of the Order…they'll be furious that we didn't tell them we were going. We should have done it properly, they could have helped!" Draco kissed the top of her head and sighed.

"We needn't worry about that now. I'm sure your father is safe; we can write him a letter." He stroked her hair gently. "I'll look after you, like you've looked after me."

Suddenly, Hermione's tears escalated into laughter, and she was clutching onto him and shaking with giggles. He stared at her, a little outraged that she was laughing at his attempts to comfort her.

"Oh Draco, I just can't believe…If someone had told me two years ago that my mother would be dead and you would be caring for me…" She laughed again. "I would have slapped them and sent them to the hospital wing." She buried her face into his chest, as he stroked her back.

"I mean it though. Remember, I lost my mother too…not that long ago, in fact." Hermione looked up at him. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose was running and she looked a little bit like a guinea pig, but Draco was suddenly overcome with how much he really did care about her. She brought her face closer to his and kissed him, tenderly and quickly.

"Thank you." She sighed, and wriggled around a bit. "Do you think we could perhaps go to sleep?"

"Of course. Would you like me to walk you to your room?" He began pulling himself away from her, as Hermione blushed a little and looked nervously at the bed.

"I thought perhaps…well…you might let me stay _here_. I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone…I…I'm scared." Draco hid his smile as he wrapped his arms back around her, and he continued to smile as she led in his arms and fell asleep.

* * *

_Wednesday 1__st__ July 1998_

"It is insupportable, no, _unthinkable _that a tragedy such as this was allowed to happen." Everyone in the room looked at Remus Lupin, who was positively seething as he addressed the Order. As soon as Hermione had admitted what had happened, a full Order meeting had been called; they had waited so long for it because the matter was so serious, and Remus had been insistent that _everyone _had to attend. Granger sat in the corner with Molly comforting her lovingly. Draco found it somewhat sweet that Mrs Weasley had been so kind to Granger; it was as though she had stepped straight into the place that her mother had left. Lupin cleared his throat and continued.

"We need to be better informed. If we had had someone working for us, spying on the Death Eater camp so to speak, we would've known about Lucius sooner. There is too much happening that we do not know – and it is imperative that we find it out."

A few murmurings went around the room, as people discussed Remus' point. Although Draco knew that it was a good idea, that it would benefit the Order in countless ways, he had a bad feeling about it. It seemed to him that there was only one way they could possibly do this, only one person they could possibly use…Potter and Weasley sat next to Lupin, and both of them kept shooting strange looks his way.

"We have an idea." Potter said suddenly, causing everyone to stop and turn to look at him. "Ron and I think we should make use of the Death Eater that's been living amongst us. Malfoy should do it. He's basically got one foot in the door anyway, and I'm sure it wouldn't be that much of a stretch for him to act evil."

Every pair of eyes fixed upon Draco, and he felt himself shrinking away from the attention. Already his mind was screaming that he did not want to do this. They could not make him return to his father. He was certain that, if he was even to attempt this, no one would believe him and he would be killed before he could discover anything. He looked around the room helplessly, desperately trying to find someone to be on his side.

"Draco…"

"No!" Draco stood up and cleared his throat. "I _can't _do it! Don't you understand how hard it was for me? Can't you even for one second begin to consider what will happen to me? If you send me to them, they _will kill me_."

He could not stand there for a moment longer as his eyes welled with tears. Without looking back, he stormed from the room and ran straight up to the attic. His heart was racing, as thought it would burst from his chest, and cold salty tears trickled down his cheeks. As the attic door opened he hastily wiped the tears, but saw with relief that it was only Granger. She walked towards him tentatively, as though worried that he would be angry with her.

"Are you alright?" She whispered.

"I'm fine. It's just…can't they understand that this is too dangerous for me? They'll _kill _me."

Hermione placed her hand on his arm and looked him in the eyes. For some reason, Draco felt uncomfortable with this – it felt as though she was invading his privacy, almost as if she was looking into his soul. He closed his eyes and swallowed, before letting out a shaky sigh.

"Draco…I think you should consider – " His eyes snapped open as his body seemed almost to swell with rage. Surely he was not hearing her correctly? Surely she was not suggesting that he do as they say? Shooting her a look of disgust, he pulled his arm away and staggered backwards.

"I would have thought you of all people would understand. But you're just like _them_ aren't you? Nothing is more important than Potter – _nothing_" 'Not even me' was unspoken, but both of them understood what he meant.

"I have put so much on the line for you." She said quietly, her voice wobbling with emotion. "I befriended you when everyone else here would have thrown you out. I have defended you _so _many times, although you haven't been there to witness it, and I have begged and pleaded with the Order to make them do things to help _you_." She took a deep breath, before letting it out shakily. "Your father _killed _my mother and yet I am still willing to support you." She flicked away a tear angrily, staring at him resolutely. "Now tell me that you're not important to me." He could not deny it, and that fact unnerved him. When he thought about all she had done for him, he realised that he had done nothing for her except tease, mock and insult. He shifted gingerly on the spot, determined not to meet her eye.

"I'm sorry." She let out a small sigh of relief. He did not look up as she moved across the room, but simply listened as she opened the door to leave.

"I need to lie down for a little while. Come with me?"

As they led squashed together on her little bed, Draco absent-mindedly stroked her hair and sighed happily. It was time like this, when they were silent together, that he felt closest to her. This sentimental dross that had once been so repulsive to him now seemed like second nature; in fact, it felt more like a compulsion. He turned to look at her and saw that she was biting her lip.

"What is it?" She let out a gentle sigh.

"I want you to do it." It was not a request but simply a demand, and Draco found that it did not bother him. It seemed reasonable of her to request this.

"But they'll kill me." She propped herself up to look down at him

"I've thought of a way to prevent them from killing you. I don't think you'll like it, but it's reasonable – and they wouldn't touch a hair on your head if they believed you."

"Tell me." Granger closed her eyes and breathed in as though to compose herself.

"Tell them you'll hand me over. Tell them that if they let you back in, Harry's mudblood friend will be theirs."

* * *

_Author's Note: Another update! Thanks for the amazing response to the last chapter - I was thrilled! Hopefully this chapter will be liked just as much, even if it is quite a sad one! I can confirm that there are only five chapters left in this fic - which is quite sad, as i've enjoyed writing it! Anyway, it isn't over yet so you have no excuse not to review! ;) _


	14. Chapter 14

"_If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, __  
__Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,"_

_Saturday 31__st__ July, 1998_

Draco's arm gave a familiar sting, and he hissed as he gripped it. Hermione was stood next to him, staring at his covered sleeve with interest.

"I guess it's time then." She said quietly. Gingerly, she touched his arm. "May I see it?" He was disgusted. The intrigue written on her face and lacing her voice repulsed him. It wasn't right. He was a monster.

"You want to _see _it?" Hermione nodded, before pushing the sleeve of his shirt up. The tattoo glared at her from his muscular arm, and he winced as she lightly traced her finger along it.

"Oh Draco…" He tugged his arm away, shrugging.

"It's fine. I've been over it a long time." He pushed his sleeve back down and turned to the wardrobe. "I have to hurry. If I'm late, he'll probably kill me." Hermione made a sharp intake of breath, and flung her arms around him.

"Be careful. Please come back to me…" She looked up at him. "…In one piece."

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises." Hermione looked at him steadily.

"You'll tell them what I asked you to, won't you?"

"Hermione…"

"_No_!" She insisted. "I'm certain about this. Tell them that you'll hand me over; then it will be certain that they'll keep you alive."

Draco disapparated and arrived in a clearing. He began instantly to make the checks that Snape had always instructed him to. The clearing was surrounded by dense forest, he couldn't see any signs of life in the nearby area and there didn't seem to be an easy route of escape. Yes, it was the ideal location for a night of torture. Draco smoothed back his hair and looked around him, there was nobody else around.

"Ah, you have arrived." The hairs on Draco's neck stood on end - it was his father. "I thought you had deserted us."

"On the contrary." Draco drawled, looking nonchalantly at his father. "I have been working hard for our cause, and have had some success. However, you nearly ruined my endeavour at our little…get together."

"Did I scare your Mudblood friend?" Lucius spat, sneering. "Did she sob in your arms?"

"Yes, but she began to doubt my loyalty. She believed you were too kind to me." Lucius passed his wand between his fingers.

"The Dark Lord has sent me to check if your loyalty is certain." He pointed his wand at Draco. "On your knees…_Legilimens_!"

Draco's mind had not been invaded for longer than he could remember, and so he was unprepared for the attack. Lucius probed deep into his mind, and the first image he saw was of Draco pressing Hermione against the wall. Draco quickly manipulated it; showed Lucius how he had shouted and threatened her. It did not take him long to remember all of the pointers Snape had given him, and he believed that the invasion had been successful. Lucius certainly looked satisfied when he finally withdrew from his son's mind.

"Content, father?" Draco demanded, to which Lucius sneered.

"Yes, I am surprised! I had thought for certain that you were lost, but I am pleased that you are not. You are permitted to enter the meeting now. Come with me." Lucius offered Draco his arm and he took it, before they disapparated from the clearing.

The next location Draco found himself in was Malfoy Manor. It was gloomier than when he had seen it last, and Draco felt as though he could sense the absence of his mother. Lucius led him into the dining room, to the large dining table which all of the Death Eaters were seated around. The Dark Lord sat at the end, and he watched him with penetrating eyes as he took his seat.

"Welcome back Master Malfoy. Am I to believe that you will be of some benefit for us?" Draco inclined his head.

"I hope that I will be of service to you My Lord, especially after such a long absence." The Dark Lord gave a twisted grin.

"Yes…such a long time." He snapped his fingers and a glass of wine appeared before Draco. "Now what do you have for us?"

"I believe that, when the final battle arrives, I will be able to lure Miss Hermione Granger to you." There was a murmur of approval around the table, and the Dark Lord sat back in his seat.

"Potter's mudblood?"

"Yes, the very one. I have…" Draco smirked. "…tricked her into friendship, using my father's charm, and she trusts me." Draco focused on Hermione telling her she trusted him, knowing that the Dark Lord would be looking.

"Very good…very good." He licked his lips. "But I cannot help thinking that you want something in return. What could a young man like you, who has only just returned to us, possibly want?" Draco took a deep breath.

"I want to know where my godfather is, My Lord."

"Snape?" The Dark Lord's eyes flashed with fury. "Why? What can you possibly want with him?"

"He has always been a dear friend to me, and a good tutor. I need his advice on playing spy for you, My Lord, as he has much experience of espionage."

"Indeed he does, but I do not believe it is for the right side." The Dark Lord flicked his hand. "I do not know where your godfather is, Draco, nor do I wish to. If he is rotting in a forest somewhere, I will be glad of it. Even that would be too kind a fate for him." Draco fought the desire to argue, but simply bowed his head.

"Yes, my Lord." Voldemort exchanged a glance with Lucius, before staring at Draco again with his piercing red eyes.

"I have finished with you now, Draco. Go with your father – Lucius, you have my permission."

Lucius grabbed hold of Draco's shoulder, and before he realised it they had disapparated. Draco was flung to the ground, and he looked up to see his father's wand pointed squarely at his face. His arm was in immense pain, he had heard it crack when he fell, and he had cut his face on a rock. Lucius sneered.

"You have managed to convince the Dark Lord of your loyalty, but there is still a price to pay. Why have you been away so long? Where have you been?"

"You know where I have been!" Draco snapped back. "And I have been there for the benefit of the cause! The Dark Lord believes me, so what right do you have not to?" Lucius turned a violent shade of red; he lurched forwards and grabbed the collar of Draco's robes.

"How _dare_ you?" He let Draco go, kicking him hard in the stomach. Draco led doubled-over on the floor, clutching onto his stomach and moaning in agony. "_Crucio!_" The pain was unbearable. It tore through him, sending waves of pain through every muscle in his body. Draco longed for it to stop, screamed for it to end, but the only response was the sound of his father's cruel and contented laughter.

After what seemed liked hours his father stopped. He strode over to him and bent down, putting his face close to his son's.

"I sincerely hope that you are not tricking us, Draco. The pain will be much worse, should I find out that you are lying. In fact, if you are…I'll kill you." Lucius disapparated, the pop resounding around the clearing, leaving Draco led on the cold hard ground. His eyes flutter closed and he could feel himself lapsing in and out of consciousness, until suddenly everything went black.

For how long Draco led there, he did not know. He had all sorts of queer visions as he lay unconscious in the clearing; his mother, his father, Snape, Dumbledore…and Granger. All of the other visions were fleeting and faint, but Granger remained there for a while. She knelt next to him, staring at him with those big brown eyes that both calmed and unnerved him. It was not the Granger he knew, but a younger version that he had tormented and bullied. She sighed at him disapprovingly, before conjuring a bowl of water and a cloth. He recoiled slightly as this dream figure placed the wet cloth on his forehead.

"You ought to be more careful, you know." He scowled at her. Seeing this childhood version of Granger reminded him why he had disliked her; that same condescending tone, and the patronising look in her eyes.

"I hardly got myself in this state on purpose did I? Do you suppose I asked my father to curse me?"

"No. But you signed up for the Death Eaters; you followed your father in the first place, when you could have chosen a different path. And now you're here, injured and alone in a cold clearing."

Draco bristled at this uppity vision. She couldn't be older than twelve, and was giving _him _a scolding. She was irritating him – he wanted her to disappear again.

"I'm here for a good reason. A…a friend asked it of me."

"That doesn't necessarily make it the right thing to do. You see, there are certain types of people for certain types of job Malfoy."

"And what are those?" She sighed and put the cloth in the bowl, before leaning back on her hands.

"Well firstly there are heroes. Brave, loyal, fighting for what's right…people like Harry and Dumbledore." Draco snorted, and she scowled at him.

"What about everyone else then?" He asked. "What are all of the other people doing whilst these idiots are saving the world?"

"Some people are simply there to help the heroes – like me and Ron." She tutted as he gave another snort. "And then there are people like…people like you."

He sat up so he could see her face properly, and was overcome by a familiar urge to slap it. She looked so smug and self-righteous – like Potter or Weasley.

"What do you mean?" He asked icily. "_People like me?" _She looked up at him, and Draco realised that she had mystically morphed into the older Hermione he now knew. She looked beautiful in the moonlight, knelt by him with her hair swung over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and glistening, as though the remains of a smile were twinkling in them.

"Well Draco…people like you are…evil and irredeemable. People like you…well, you're gotten rid of."

His eyes snapped open and he flung himself into a sitting position, gasping for air as though he had been running a marathon. Frantically he looked around the clearing for a sign that she had been there, but there were no footprints on the ground and the bowl of water had disappeared. He knew that it had been a figment of his imagination, a nightmare brought on by the Cruciatus curse, but it had unnerved him greatly. Although his muscles still quivered, he managed to pull himself to his feet, still clutching his wand in case his father returned. He needed to get as far away as possible from this clearing, from his father and the imaginary Granger, so he closed his eyes and disapparated.

Thankfully he did not splinch, and managed to successfully apparate into the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. A few Order members were milling around, waiting for his return, so he presumed that Granger had informed them.

"Mr Malfoy, is everything alright?" It was Madame Pomfrey, who had seemingly come prepared for every catastrophe.

"Yes thank you. But my father…the Cruciatus…." The nurse produced a bottle of something and a spoon.

"Take a spoonful of this every hour. It won't reduce the pain, but the shakes will disappear."

"Tell us what happened, Malfoy." It was Mad-Eye Moody, whose magical eye had been fixed firmly on Draco since he entered the room. Draco explained how he met his father and what exactly happened at the meeting; however he left out the part about Hermione and the deal he had made.

"And they believed you?" Lupin asked. "So easily?"

"Voldemort performed a deep assessment of my mind using Legllimency. However, I am quite an accomplished Occlumens."

"So it was a success?" "Yes, I do believe it was." The assembled group exchanged satisfied smiles.

Mrs Weasley bustled off to the kitchen and broke him back a cup of tea and a sandwich. He ate it ravenously, desperate to give himself some strength back. The Cruciatus Curse made him tired – his arms and legs ached, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Once he had polished off the sandwich, he turned to the others.

"Where's Granger?" Molly and Lupin exchanged anxious looks, which caused Draco's heart to skip an anxious beat. "Isn't she here?" Molly gave out a quiet sigh.

"She's gone. They had to leave immediately – it was important…she wanted to wait but…"

"But it was more important?"

She had left him again, betrayed him once more – at the time when he needed her reassurance the most. He wanted to shout and scream, hex them all and leave; get as far away as possible. But he had no energy; he could barely keep his eyes open, and his temples were throbbing. He let out a dejected sigh. "Of course. I'm evil aren't I? Only good enough to be gotten rid of." Molly stepped forwards and touched his shoulder gently.

"I think you ought to go to bed, Draco…you're delirious. I'll accompany you up the stairs if you'd like..." He didn't say anything, but simply stood up and left the room alone. Yes…he was quite alone.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Author's Note: Another two chapters! I'm in a good mood (despite having a terrible cold) so i decided to treat you! Thank you for everyone who read and reviewed my last chapter - it means the world to me! :) _


	15. Chapter 15

"_If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you"_

_Saturday 1__st__ August, 1998_

Granger,

Where the hell are you? What kind of a person are you who would leave someone when you said you'd be there? Why did you go with Potter and Weasley? They're both prats anyway.

* * *

_Wednesday 5__th__ August, 1998_

Hermione,

I can't believe you left me like everybody else. You said you would always be there, but you aren't. My father threatened to kill me, and you weren't even there. What am I supposed to do if he kills me and I never see you again? I miss you. Come back soon.

Snape,

Where are you? No one has seen you for months, and I need you. You know you're like a father to me, you've always been better than Lucius. So why have you seemingly left me alone?

* * *

_Tuesday 11__th__ August, 1998_

Godfather,

I've done something so stupid. I've gone back to them, as a spy for the Order. I know what you'd say about now, something along the lines of "you ignoramus" before giving me some vital advice. I need that advice now, or else I don't think I'll survive. Granger won't survive either. I've promised them that I'll bring her to them, and if I don't have you to help me she'll die. I can't let her die Severus or I'll…

* * *

_Saturday 29__th__ August, 1998_

Granger,

I know that you are able to send letters, because Mrs Weasley got something from you this morning. Why haven't you written to me?

Malfoy.

Snape,

Sorry for all of these disjointed ramblings, but this is the only way I can vent my thoughts. I know you aren't getting these, or else you would have replied, but I need to write them anyway. She has to come back. Every time I go to a meeting I'm scared it will be the last time. I worry because I will not have had the opportunity to say thank you to you or her. My father is going to kill me soon, I know, and I can't die without telling you how much I have appreciated all you have done. What do I do Snape? I think I love her.

Your Godson.

* * *

_Saturday 19__th__ September, 1998_

Draco was reading when she returned. He had almost turned the library into a sacred place – no one else dared go into it anymore, for he was always sat in there. Alone and reading. Draco had hardly dared hope that she would come back; he wouldn't let himself. The letters that he had been writing to both her and his godfather had frightened him, for he had come dangerously close to admitting things he did not want to. It made him embarrassed to think that she had read and ignored his letters. He could imagine her showing them to Potter and Weasley, picture them laughing mockingly at the heart-felt words he had bravely written down. Part of him didn't want her to return – he didn't think he could bare the rejection that was bound to come.

The first he heard of her arrival was the slamming of the door and the cheerful trill of her voice. He could hear her from the library; her voice slithered its way up the banister and seemed to coil around his heart. It squeezed tightly, making Draco feel sick. Tentatively he made his way to the top of the stairs and positioned himself where he could see her. She looked surprisingly well; more like she had been on holiday than fighting dark wizards.

"I'm so glad you're well!" Molly Weasley cried, wrapping her arms around the trio. "We have been worried sick."

"It hasn't been easy." Draco heard Potter saying. "We've been to Germany."

"You shall have to tell us what it's like there; I've always wanted to go." Lupin entered the hallway and embraced them too, beaming happily.

"I do believe it's your birthday today, Hermione."

"Yes." She replied, grinning at the werewolf. "I'm so thrilled to be back here to celebrate with you all. I've missed everyone terribly."

"I shall have to make you something special! What would you like, Hermione? I'll make anything." Hermione laughed again as Draco watched, unable to prevent himself from admiring her.

"One of your famous cheese and onion pies would be lovely, Molly, would that be alright?"

"Of course dear, it would be splendid. I'll have to get started right away!"

He waited for her, expecting her to excuse herself and run straight up the stairs into his arms. He watched unblinkingly, his eyes fixed on her pale face and his heart thumping wildly in his chest. She followed the others to the kitchen, without so much of a glance up the stairs. Draco shook his head miserably and headed for the library – it was quite clear that she had not missed him at all. For hours he sat there, thumbing through the book. He didn't even go downstairs for dinner, but then nobody had called him to it. At half past ten he walked quietly back to his room, pushing open the door with a sigh of relief. He would be able to sleep, to pretend that she had never left.

She was sat on his bed; cross-legged with a brown parcel on her lap. His heart skipped a beat when she looked at him and he froze in the doorway.

"Malfoy…"

"I'm surprised you're back." He replied, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. He wanted to scream at her.

"I'm sorry…so sorry. Harry needed me, Draco. They need my help! I couldn't say no…they're my friends."

"I believe we've had this conversation before." He said coolly. "And then you asserted that I _was _in fact important to you. Perhaps you could explain then why you were not here when I returned from that meeting? Why you were not there after I had suffered the Cruciatus Curse? Why you have not been there the past _ten _times I have returned battered and cursed?"

He looked at her and their eyes met. She licked her lips, letting out a small sigh, before standing and walking over to him. She placed a hand flat against his chest, moving her thumb tenderly in soothing circles.

"You can't imagine how guilty I've been feeling." She whispered. "I was torn. I didn't know what to do." He could not believe how easily he fell for this. As she looked up at him innocently, he felt all of the anger fade away. That in itself infuriated him – he wished he could be furious at her, wished that he did not forgive her so easily. He placed his hand on top of hers, lacing their fingers together.

"Why didn't you write to me?" Hermione looked down bashfully.

"Harry didn't think it was a good idea. He…he thinks you're going to hurt me. In fact, he would go crazy if he knew I was in here. He thinks I'm asleep."

They fell silent and, for a moment, Draco was reminded of when he first arrived there. Hermione was a little awkward with him, scared almost, and he was just as afraid of her. If it wasn't for her warm hand beneath his, he would have completely forgotten all that had passed between them. Draco sighed and looked down at her.

"I didn't know it was your birthday." He stated. Hermione laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Draco noted happily that that had not happened when she was downstairs earlier.

"That's quite alright – I wasn't expecting a gift." She picked the package up from the bed and held it out to him. "But I've brought one for you."

"What is it?"

"Open it and you'll see." Draco tore off the packaging, and saw that she had brought him a book. It was written in, what Draco supposed was, German. "It's called 'Die Leiden Des Jungen Werthers, by Goethe." Hermione was beaming at him, but her face fell as he scrutinized it.

"It's in German…"

"I thought you could use a translation spell." Draco nodded. "He…the main character…he reminds me a little of you. I just hope you don't share a similar fate." Draco stared at her blankly before nodding.

"Thank you."

He gripped her hand more tightly and led her over to the bed, where they led next to one another. She hummed quietly as he reflected; reflected on what had happened between them, how he had felt when she was gone, and what was going to happen now that she had returned. For a reason he could not explain, he was more worried about her now that she had returned. It could only be a bad thing that she was closer to him – now that he was a spy, and in regular contact with his father and Lord Voldemort, his feelings for her made her more vulnerable. He had to tell her. He had to truly let her know how he felt. She needed to be aware of the situation she was in. He was not fooling around anymore – he loved her, it was undeniable. With a heavy sigh he sat up and got to his feet.

"What is it? Are you alright?" She sat up, looking at him anxiously. Draco reached down and took her hand, pulling her to standing position again. He gave a brief nod.

"I'm very well. I'm giving you your birthday present." Trying not to meet her eye, he removed the amulet from around his neck and dangled it in front of her. "I want you to have this." She stared at it with wide eyes, as thought it would curse or hex her.

"I couldn't possibly take that from you. It was a gift from your mother to Snape; it's too dear to you…I can't take it." His heart clenched and he closed his eyes.

"I've put you into danger by agreeing to your plan, so I feel that I must protect you. Wear this – _please_." She nodded slowly, before turning around to allow him to put it on. He brushed his hand softly against her neck, before fixing the amulet in place.

When she turned back to face him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He kissed her deeply, feeling his heart soaring as she returned the kiss. It was an entirely new experience for him; one that he welcomed, yet wished he had never started. He was certain that something would end badly for him – everything in his life was tainted eventually, and he was sure that this would be no different. Suddenly, the floorboard outside creaked and she stopped. She placed her fingers against her lips, as though to hide the evidence of their kiss, and stared at the door. He ignored it and took his hands in hers.

"Granger…Hermione….I have something of the utmost importance to say, and I think – "

She pulled her hands away from his and, when he looked down at her, saw that her eyes were welling up with tears. "What's the matter?" He asked quietly.

"Harry will be furious if he finds me in here…" Draco bent his face close to hers, tilting it with his finger.

"Does it really matter to you what he thinks? When I'm trying to say something important?" Hermione bit her lip, trying hard to keep the tears from falling.

"It's not….I…" She looked at him. "I can't do this anymore." Draco dropped his arms and stepped back, narrowing his eyes at her.

"What do you mean?"

"This is ridiculous…this _thing _between us." His face looked steely and cold, as she folded her arms. "It's illogical, based on a combination of desperation and defiance. We're both trying to prove something by pretending to have feelings for one another, and I don't think it's fair. So…so I'm putting it to an end." Draco's hands balled into fists. He could hardly hear what she was saying, for his heart was beating so loudly.

"You don't mean that." He hissed. "You're lying."

"I'm not!" She sobbed, shaking her head. "I…I just can't. "

She walked over to the door and placed her hand on the knob.

"Don't!" He shouted, pleadingly. "_Please_!" She turned back and looked at him, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry....I think it's for the best that we pretend none of this ever happened. The plan will still go ahead, but….but I think it's for the best if we spend less time together." She walked over to him again and removed the amulet from around her neck. He felt as though she had punched him in the stomach, but it hurt more terribly than anything he had ever experienced before. "Goodnight Malfoy." And so she went, leaving him alone, half wishing that she had never returned.

* * *

_Author's Note: Just a brief note to explain Die Leiden Des Jungen Werther! It's a German book (as your probably guessed) written by Goethe. It's about a man called Werther who falls in love with a woman called Lotte. However, she is engaged to someone else and eventually marries him. In the end, Goethe commits suicide which is the fate that Hermione does not want Draco to meet! _


	16. Chapter 16

"_If all men count with you, but none too much,"_

_Thursday 1__st__ October, 1998_

"Granger! Granger!" Draco ignored the fact that it was just past midnight, and came tearing from his room, up the stairs and into Hermione's room. She sat bolt upright in her bed, tugging the quilt right up to her chin. She dropped it, however, when she saw who it was.

"What's the matter? Are you alright?" Draco waved a piece of parchment in her face; he was positively shaking with excitement. Months he had waited for this…and now…he could barely contain himself.

"It's from Snape." Hermione climbed out of the bed and took the parchment from him. She scanned it quickly, biting her lip nervously.

"You're certain? It isn't a trick, a plot to get you killed…?"

"I'll never know if I don't go and find him, Granger!" He grasped her wrists. "Come with me." Hermione looked away, trying desperately to avoid his eye.

"I…It's dangerous. And Harry…" He dropped her hands and turned away.

"I know you said that we couldn't…that you didn't want to…but I thought you would still want to help me." He heard her sigh deeply.

"It isn't that I don't want to help you, it's just that I don't want you to get hurt. We'll send the others to fetch him, it'll be safer."

Hermione promptly woke the rest of the house, showing them the letter from Snape and letting Draco explain his whereabouts. It was a ruined castle, somewhere in Wales, and Remus left to find him along with Mad-Eye and a few others. Draco sat nervously in the kitchen, tapping his bare foot against the cold floor tiles, as Hermione watched him carefully. It reminded him of when he first arrived; she had been so cold with him, yet curious at the same time. She was like that now, staring at him from the corner of her eye. Suddenly, to break the uncomfortable silence, he blurted a thought that had been coursing through his head since the day she returned.

"You're in love with Potter." Hermione stared directly at him for a moment, her face blank, before tossing back her head and laughing at him – a laugh laced with disgust.

"Of course I'm not. What gave you that impression?"

"I just cannot see why you suddenly obey his every word. You went away for two months and came back entirely devoted to him. That explains why you trailed around after him and Weasley at school – and why you wouldn't go out with Weasley. You love him."

"I love him like a brother – like a terribly infuriating brother, but one who knows better than I do." Draco wrapped his hands around the steaming mug in front of him.

"I don't believe you." She let out another frustrated laugh.

"Why ever not?"

"You have told me more than once how ridiculously controlling Potter is, how he overreacts to everything, and that you really don't pay heed to much that he says. So how is it that you go away, and come back convinced that he is always correct?" Hermione stayed silent, to which Draco laughed. "I know there is something you are hiding from me, and I will find it out eventually."

"Your paranoia is extraordinary. I'm hiding nothing. This conversation is irrelevant, anyway, because I have been _quite _clear on how I feel. Could we drop it, perhaps?"

After three hours of more painful silence, an unconscious and bloodied Snape was brought into the kitchen. Remus led him out on the kitchen table, as Madam Pomfrey bustled in with her medical supplies. Draco stepped back and watched, leaning against the counter for support.

"Is he alright? Will he live?"

"I should hope so, Mr Malfoy" Madam Pomfrey replied. "He has quite clearly had access to some antidotes and potions, or he has been making rough ones in the wild. In the circumstances he has been living in…he should be dead, but he has managed to keep himself alive. For that, we should be grateful."

"I don't see why." Everyone looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, still wearing his pyjamas and looking at the scene casually. "That bastard has done nothing but hurt us all, why should we be grateful that he lives?"

"Harry, I don't think this is the right time." Hermione said calmly, to which Harry laughed.

"I wondered how long it would take you. Why is it that you befriend the people who tried to _kill _us, and yet ignore the advice of your closest friends? Who will it be next, Hermione? Lucius Malfoy?"

"Never." She spat harshly, her face becoming red. "I would _never_…You never know when to stop, do you?" She stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving both Harry and Draco staring after her.

Draco tired his hardest to stay awake as Madam Pomfrey worked on Snape but, as morning began to arrive, he had still not regained consciousness. The nurse sent Draco off to bed with a wave of her hand and a disapproving 'tut'. As he led awake and alone in his bed, the door opened and light was cast over his room - it was Hermione, and she stood there awkwardly with her arms folded across her chest. Almost silently she padded into the room, pulled back the quilt and slipped into the bed next to him. He didn't ask her questions; in fact he didn't even dare to move.

"Are you awake?" She asked quietly. He found her hand and squeezed it, as a form of reply. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. "

"What for?" She sighed gently.

"For leaving you, for saying that…that I didn't want to…that we shouldn't…"

"I'm glad you told me – you were right, it was for the best." There was an uncomfortable silence, until Draco sighed. "What made you change your mind? It was something that happened on the trip…"

"I didn't truly change my mind. I simply became…afraid."

"Of what? Of _me_?"

"Certainly not!" She retorted.

"Then what? What happened to make you afraid?" She covered her eyes with her hand.

"I was afraid that you would get hurt. What with you being a spy now, and being closer than ever to Voldemort, I worried that our closeness would put you in even more jeopardy. When Harry asked me to stay away from you I agreed, because…because I thought it would give me a reason. You would give up more easily if you thought I'd turned against you."

"You have terrible timing."

"It was the amulet that triggered me to finally do it! You had taken away your source of protection and given it to me! I couldn't bear it – I had to push you away and give it back."

He wanted to laugh with relief. She didn't hate him; she had not turned against him! He turned onto his side to face her and she did the same. Their bodies moulded together as they embraced.

"Hermione, I –" She put a finger to his lips and smiled.

"I know what you're going to say, trust me I feel the same way too, but don't say it." He looked at her questioningly.

"I don't understand."

"If we don't say it, it can't hurt us." She replied smiling. He kissed her, wanting to capture her sweet smile with his lips.

* * *

_Thursday 8__th__ October 1998_

"Draco! Draco wake _up_!" Draco opened his eyes and saw Hermione standing over him wearing her dressing gown. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and she had a streak of mascara on her cheek. He smirked at her and stretched.

"Good morning to you too! What a vision of loveliness you are." He reached out a hand to her. "Care to join me?"

"I'm not here for that!" She gasped. "He's finally woken up and he wants to see you! Madame Pomfrey is tending to him, but she says that if you get up now you can have some time alone with him!" Draco clambered out of bed quickly, throwing his dressing gown on over his bare chest. His heart was pounding; he was going to speak to Snape after all these months.

They were keeping him in Sirius' old room, much to Harry's chagrin, as it was one of the largest inhabitable rooms. Hermione knocked twice on the door, opening it when Madame Pomfrey's high-pitched voice rang out. Snape was sat upright in the bed, propped up with pillows, and he looked sallower and sicklier than usual. Draco stepped into the room, but not until Hermione had grasped his hand and squeezed it. The two women left the room, leaving the two men to stare at one another without speaking. Draco made the first move. He stepped forwards towards the bed, and sat on the wooden stool beside it. Snape spoke first.

"When I received your letters, I believed them to be frauds. I could not believe that Mr Draco Malfoy had fallen in _love _with the Know-It-All-Gryffindor. Yet here I see that it was all true; the evidence is here before me." Draco jutted out his chin.

"And do you disapprove godfather?" Snape stared at him with his black, blank eyes.

"Yes. Yes I do."

They stared at one another for a moment. Snape seemed cold and distant, whilst Draco was angry and on the brink of exploding. He was angry at Snape for returning to his life so suddenly and automatically disapproving of what he had done with it. Draco clenched his fist then unclenched it, making sure that his face remained impassive.

"Where have you been?" Snape sneered at him.

"On the run. Not all of us can afford such comforts as you, Draco."

"Your comment about my 'comforts' is unfair. They have not been great and you could have come too…"

"I could not." Snape barked. "Do not be ridiculous! Your comforts have been very great, Draco! You do not know what it is like to be hunted, to have your steps followed doggedly, and to dodge death at every turn – "

"Of course I do!" Draco interrupted, leaping to his feet. "My father killed my mother and he's after me! I have rejoined the Death Eaters as a spy, and have endured countless violent meetings with the Dark Lord and my father! You cannot tell me I do not know how it feels to be hunted!"

In a sudden movement, Snape had leapt out of the bed and pushed Draco against the wall. He had him by the neck, his spindly fingers digging into the flesh. Draco squirmed, desperately trying to get free. Snape's face was close to his; his breath was bitter and it made Draco recoil in disgust.

"You _foolish _boy! How could you do that? After all I did to keep you safe; you walked straight back into the danger! You have let a woman sway your thoughts Draco; even after all of the warnings I gave to you!"

"What, I let her sway me like Lily Evans swayed you?" Snape's grip tightened.

"Never…_ever _mention her. Do you hear me? _NEVER_!"

As Snape shouted, the door burst open and Madame Pomfrey rushed back inside. Hermione stood at the door, watching anxiously. She looked pale and concerned as Snape let Draco go.

"Severus, I think you should get back into bed. This isn't good for your health." The nurse said, earning herself a glare from Snape.

"You will regret this Draco!" Snape yelled wildly. "You will regret giving everything to a woman! She will leave you, and then you will be left like me – with nothing!"

Hermione firmly gripped hold of Draco's hand, dragging him away from the room. She took him to the attic; shutting the door and muffling all outside sound, all whilst keeping hold of his hand. She led him to the sofa and let go.

"Sit down and wait here. I'll make us some tea." She left the attic and returned ten minutes later, bringing with her two steaming mugs. She handed one to Draco, before sitting next to him. "He shouldn't have spoken to you like that." Draco stared into his cup moodily.

"No….I don't know why he said those things."

"Because he's a bitter man! He finally regrets his actions and blames them on you!" She let out a frustrated sigh. "You mustn't take any notice of him. He understands nothing."

"He was in love with Lily, you know. He woke up one night, screaming that he'd killed her – it was a nightmare. He told me everything; how they had somehow fallen in love, how she had jilted him for James Potter and how his actions had led to her death." Draco looked at her with a pointed look in his eye that caused her to sit back.

"And what? You think it will end the same with me?" She sighed and shook her head, taking the amulet out from under her shirt. She squeezed it, as though it were supporting her. "It won't end that way for us. Things are different this time around…and I won't let it happen."

"But how can you be sure?" She took his hand and squeezed it gently, smiling sadly.

"How can we ever be sure of anything?"

* * *

_Author's Note: Once again I must apologise profusely for the gap between the chapters! Things have just been manic these past few months - busier than i expected them to be! As you can probably tell, this story will soon be drawn to a close! Two more chapters left to go, and i do intend to have them done for Christmas! Please leave a review for this chapter - whether it's to congratulate, commiserate or to complain about how long it's been! :) Thanks! _


	17. Chapter 17

"_If you can fill the unforgiving minute__  
__With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,"_

_Saturday 31__st__ October, 1998_

The rest of the month passed in a blur, as Draco divided his time between Granger and Snape. Although his godfather disapproved of what he had done, Draco could not abandon him. They usually spent the mornings together, discussing things like potions and research – never anything about the war or what had happened to them both. After a few weeks, Hermione joined them. Draco was surprised at how Snape seemed to accept her, how he was even civil towards her; he suspected that Snape was trying to appease him. Of course, Potter and Weasley were furious. Their relationship with Hermione had descended to exchanging biting insults across the dinner table; it had gone so far, that it now seemed that Snape and he were her only friends.

As Halloween approached, Order meetings occurred more and more regularly. It seemed like every evening they gathered in the kitchen, their heads bent together to discuss theories and tactics and Merlin knows what else. Draco often zoned out during them; he knew that he should've listened, but if he did it simply made it harder at the _other _set of meetings he was required to attend. The Death Eater meetings were also called more often, and so Draco often found himself jumping from one leader to another. He had tried complaining about it to Snape, but the older man had simply laughed and told him to get used to it.

When Halloween finally came around, a half-carved pumpkin was the only symbol of the day's festivities. The inhabitants of the house stood around the kitchen table, staring at Harry Potter with a mixture of all emotions: fear, desperation, hope and longing. It was lunchtime – an unusual time for an Order meeting, and yet a necessary one. Last night, Draco had been called to Lord Voldemort. It was time. That night, during the Halloween feast, the Death Eaters were going to take Hogwarts. A meeting had been called immediately, and there they sat. Potter had just announced the news to everyone and, although they knew it would happen some time, it came as a shock. Draco was the only person who did not look at Potter. His eyes were planted firmly on Hermione who sat by The-Boy-That-Everything-Depended-On. Her eyes were red from crying, her face pale with fright and her lip swollen from her persistent nibbling of it. The news that had been so abruptly announced should have changed Draco's life dramatically. He should not have been admiring her unusual beauty as though he had all of the time in the world.

"And you suggest we flee there immediately? Without a plan or even an _aim_?" Snape's caustic criticism broke Draco's trance, and his eyes flicked to where his godfather sat. Potter gripped onto the table and leant forwards, his green eyes calmer than Draco had ever seen them.

"We have an aim, _Snape_, and it has been my aim since the moment I learnt about my parents' murderer – I am going to kill him." Harry looked around the room. "I simply can't let Hogwarts fall. Think of all of those children, left to the mercy of the Death Eaters. Can you really allow that to happen?"

The room fell silent, except the steady ticking of the Weasley's grandfather clock that had been permanently relocated to the house. Potter looked around, almost pleadingly, as the gathered members of the Order avoided his eye.

"Cowards…every single one of you…"

"I have something to say." Draco's voice rang out around the kitchen before he realised. He wasn't even aware he had been thinking about Potter's questions, but it turned out he suddenly had an answer.

"Thank you, Draco." Snape interjected, sitting back in his seat. "I am sure you will have something _sensible _to say on this matter." He looked smug and proud, especially when Harry sat down with a defeated expression on his face.

"I agree with Potter. People could be lying dead whilst we discuss whether or not they are worth saving. It doesn't really matter if there is no plan, because we'll save more people by being there than we would if we stayed here." Draco did not hide his smirk of triumph when Hermione grinned at him.

"Harry's right…they're _both _right." Hermione laughed, although it sounded a little hysterical. "We need to go – the sooner the better. We may not want it to be true, but our time has come; this is what we've been waiting for."

"Yes!" Potter cried, thumping his fist on the table. "It's decided then. We're going."

The feast had not yet started when they arrived at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall was aware of what was happening, of course, and so she stationed everyone at various positions around the castle.

"Mr Malfoy you shall be accompanied by…Miss Granger and you shall watch the dungeons."

"No." Potter replied. "She's coming with us."

"You shall be accompanied by Professor Snape." McGonagall replied. "And will be hidden until the correct time. Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy, however, will be protecting the dungeons – as I said." Not even in this adrenalin-fuelled state could Harry argue against Minerva, and so he nodded miserably before leaving with Snape.

As they made their way from the headmistress' office, Draco slipped his hand into Hermione's. He began to walk faster, causing her to almost trip as they descended the main staircase. Draco gritted his teeth together, desperately trying to resist the urge to check if she was okay. The truth was, he simply didn't have the time. When they reached the Entrance Hall, Draco came to an abrupt stop. He stood facing Hermione, tilting his head down to look at her face, and placed his hands on her shoulders. Without saying a word, he brought his lips down to meet hers and kissed her. It was a kiss laced with fear, regret and desperation – neither of them could deny it.

"You're beginning to scare me." She whispered. "What's going on?"

"I was called whilst we were in the office. Voldemort is in the Shrieking Shack; Hogsmeade surrendered." Hermione's eyes widened.

"Why didn't you tell them, Draco? Harry needs to know…"

"No." He said determinedly, a frown passing over his face. "Snape knows and that is sufficient. Potter need not be concerned…"

Draco flinched as realisation passed across her features. He could see that she was trying to appear brave, but it was impossible to conceal the utter terror that flashed in her brown eyes. Letting out a shaky sigh, she looked at the grand doors that were open to reveal the grounds outside. From that position they could see the tallest chimney of the Shrieking Shack, peeking out from behind the hills as though it was waiting for them expectantly.

"He wants you to take me, doesn't he?"

"As soon as possible. I'm supposed to lead you there without causing you any fear." Hermione smiled bitterly.

"I'm simply to follow you like a dutiful, lovelorn Mudblood who's infatuated with the precious Pureblood?" She laughed scornfully. "We _have _to kill him Draco – I'll do anything it takes to make sure he doesn't survive." She let out another sigh, but this time it was more collected. "Right. Lead me away, Draco. I'm ready."

It felt like an age as they walked across the grassy lawn in front of the school. The lake glittered in the twilight, reflecting the candles that shone brightly in the castle and the peeping moon. The students would be settling down for their feast now, completely unaware as to what was about to happen. It made Hermione want to vomit. She took Draco's proffered arm and squeezed it tightly, clutching it as though this was the only protection she would need. She used to do that when she was little, riding the Ghost Train with her father. 'Everything will be alright if you just take my arm' he would say to her. She would do it and, instantly, would feel better. Standing in these beautiful surroundings, this was no longer any help; her father could not help her, and this time the demons were not pretend.

The Shrieking Shack had not changed much since her third year. Dust still covered almost every surface, cobwebs barred off windows and she still felt the eerie sensation that she did not quite belong there. They came to a sudden stop outside of a closed door, and Draco turned to her. Hermione looked up at him, consciously trying not to reveal the fright that she felt. Draco closed his own eyes for a moment, before opening them and staring at her blankly.

"Just in here, love…I promise you'll like it."

"I really can't think what it could be, Draco!" Hermione trilled, catching onto his game. "I'm terribly excited to see though!" With a deep breath, Draco pushed open the door and suddenly everything went black.

* * *

_An undistinguishable time later_

Draco's eyes fluttered open as a cool blast of air brushed across his face. He opened them properly and sat up, feeling his head pounding as though he had hit it against something. When he finally realised that he had been led down, he presumed that it had been the floor. Instantly, Draco whipped his head around to look for Hermione. He saw her led next to him on the floor; her eyes were still shut and, at first glance, it may have seemed that she was simply asleep. But the more Draco looked, the more he saw. Blood trickled gently from a gash in her lip and black bruises had already begun to appear on her face – she shifted slightly and opened her eyes, moaning in pain. She was conscious, but only just.

"I apologise for stunning you also, Draco, but it was unavoidable." Voldemort hissed; a fiendish smirk on his face. "Miss Granger and I have been becoming acquainted, although I do find she is not as co-operative as she ought to be."

Voldemort suddenly leapt to his feet and swooped towards her. Draco hurried to the side of the room, and sat on the floor, slumped against the damp wall as he watched Lord Voldemort torture Hermione.

"How long have I been unconscious, My Lord?" Draco whispered; his throat dry.

"Approximately three hours. The battle is raging at Hogwarts and, I am not afraid to admit, The Order are fighting valiantly. If they had not been Blood Traitors, I would gladly have accepted some of them into our ranks."

"What are we to do here, My Lord? Are you going to kill the Mudblood?"

"Not yet." Voldemort hissed, bending so his face was only inches from Hermione's. "She will be bait first."

With that, Voldemort returned to full height and placed his wand against his throat. Although he spoke at an ordinary volume, Draco could hear his voice echoing in the distance. Closing his eyes to block out the sounds and images, he rested his head against the wall and took three deep breaths.

"Harry James Potter, give up your fight. Come to the Shrieking Shack, completely alone, for I have something here that may interest you." He stepped closer to Hermione once more and placed the wand against her throat. "_Speak_." He hissed.

"Ha…Harry don't!" She gasped, choking a little. "Stay away Harry! _Please I beg you_!" Voldemort stepped away from her and smiled menacingly at Draco.

"Ten minutes, and I shall have him."

Lord Voldemort had been correct. They stood in silence, waiting and staring at the door, each with equal interest in who was about to come through it. Draco tried not to watch as Hermione writhed in pain; he presumed that Voldemort had hit her with some internal curse that was paining her, for he could see no real outward injuries.

"Your father shall be proud, Draco. You have done well for the honourable name of Malfoy."

"Lucious Malfoy is nothing but a _bastard_." Hermione hissed. "And I'll take so much pleasure in making sure that he is well and truly _dead_!"

"A fiery one." Voldemort said with a sigh. "A terrible shame that she has such filthy blood. _Crucio_."

Hermione let out a shrill scream and began writhing more violently. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, screwing her eyes shut, as though it were possible for her to block out the pain. Voldemort laughed before ending the curse, and then he turned to Draco.

"You do it, Draco. I'm certain you deserve it, after all of these months pretending to be in love with her." Draco felt his heart race as he slowly climbed to his feet, reaching into his pocket shakily to pull out his wand. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and stepped towards her. His wand was outstretched, the words poised on his lips, when the door was suddenly thrown open. Potter stood in the doorway, his wand withdrawn, staring fiercely at Voldemort. Snape stood behind him, looking just as stoney and fierce.

"Mr Potter." Voldemort said; stepping forwards as though he were greeting guests for dinner. "As predictable as ever, I am pleased to see….and you brought Severus too, how thoughtful. You shall never know how much it will please me to rid the world of the three of you, all at once!"

"You won't touch a single one of us!" Harry spat, gripping his wand. Draco noticed that he was covered in blood, dirt and sweat. "Let Hermione go. It's me you want, not her."

"A touching idea but one nevertheless that shall be ignored. You shall all die by my hand tonight." Voldemort turned to look at Draco. "Now, where were we? I do believe you were about to punish this Mudblood."

All eyes were fixed upon Draco. It was time to make his choice. All of his life he had been conditioned to believe that muggle-borns, like Hermione, were dirty and stupid and unnecessary. He had been convinced for most of his life that he was superior to them, superior to _her_, and three years ago this would have been all he'd ever wished for. But he _knew_ her now, he liked her…oh to hell with it, he _loved _her. She wasn't below him; if anything, she was far more superior than he could ever be. Licking his lips, he lifted his wand as though preparing to voice the curse. It was there at the forefront of his mind; it would take only a second to mutter that one word that would cause her so much pain…

"No." He said, his voice sounded stronger than he felt. Draco had a quick moment to notice a single tear roll down Hermione's cheek, before he turned to look at Voldemort. "I won't do it – I won't hurt her more than I've already done by agreeing to bring her here." Voldemort sneered at him, withdrawing his wand.

"I see…you believe you have fallen in love with the Mudblood bitch after all…but why did you bring her here if you truly love her, Draco? Why would you inflict this on her, when you knew how it would end?"

"I did it to help _them_!" He cried in response. "Hermione and I agreed to tell you that I would hand her over, just so I could get back into your ranks! I have done what my Godfather so successfully did before me, and I would do it again. I _love _her and I am no longer afraid of you, _Voldemort. _ You can do nothing that will hurt me."

For a moment everyone stood in stunned silence. Draco's heart was pounding so hard, he was certain it would spring out of his chest. Although he had done something both brave and ridiculously stupid, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from him. He knew there was only one thing left to do now – one final barrier to cross before he could get everything he had ever wanted. For once in his life, something was almost properly within his reach. Voldemort needed to be destroyed. It was he who broke the silence. Bearing his teeth and fixing his scarlet eyes on Draco, he pointed his wand at Hermione.

"I could kill _her_."

It all happened too quickly to register properly in Draco's mind. He heard Voldemort utter those two words and saw the flash of green light. He could see Snape trying to restrain Harry, but noticed that Potter was quick enough to escape his grasp and rush forwards. He felt himself leap across the room towards Hermione, keeping his eyes fixed on hers and seeing with relief and surprise that she was smiling at him. Then all he saw was a bright shining light; a light which seemed to warm every inch of his body, from the tips of his fingers to the core of his heart. It was all he could see and all he could feel. He was consumed by it and, with a small gasp, everything went black.

* * *

That was when Hermione began screaming - a scream so loud that it hurt her throat. It felt as though someone had slashed her chest and tore out her heart. It felt as though she would no longer be able to live. Letting out a strangled sob, she flung herself across the floor, despite the pain of her injuries and the blood that seemed to be seeping from an injury on her back. People seemed to be appearing from nowhere, flooding the room and filling it with noise, She ignored their voices; what they said no longer concerned her. Screaming again, she draped herself across the motionless body and grabbed his face between her hands. With a final sob, she looked into his empty eyes.

* * *

_Author's Note: So there you have it - chapter 17! I decided to update the chapter so quickly as i really want to end this story; not because i haven't enjoyed it, but simply because i think it's finally time to wrap things up! The spell which Voldemort uses is, of course, JK Rowling's creating. I decided to borrow it! ;) Hopefully you've enjoyed this chapter (as much as possible anyway, given the circumstances!) and i hope you leave a review. Whether it's criticism, praise or even general waffle, it's always appreciated! One more chapter to go! _


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note: Well ladies and gentlemen, here you have the 18th and final chapter of my fic If! There's nothing left to do but read the final piece, but do please read the author's note at the end containing all of the compulsory pleasantries! _

* * *

_Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,__  
__And – which is more – you'll be a Man, my son!_

_Saturday 31__st__ October, 1998 – continued_

"No!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, _NO_!" She grappled at the body lying on the floor, frantic in her grief. Suddenly she was no longer alone, as Ron too ran forwards and flung himself onto the floor next to her. He was also sobbing heartily, gripping tightly onto the lifeless hand that still held onto a wand.

"Harry!" He cried. "Listen to me! Wake up, Harry!" Everyone in the room seemed to be staring at them, motionless. What could one do in a situation like that? There didn't seem to be anything for anyone to say.

Draco sat up hazily, rubbing his eyes. The light did not seem to be there any longer, and he was astounded by it. What was it? Whatever it had been, it had knocked him unconscious for a moment. Hermione's screams suddenly ripped through him, causing the hairs on his arms to stand on end. He turned and watched her, as she wept over the dead body of her greatest friend. It took him a moment to realise that Potter was dead. He had never liked him, but Draco could not help but feel a pang of sorrow; Potter, the hero of the wizarding world, was dead. Tearing his eyes away from the grief, he looked to see that Voldemort too lay unmoving on the ground. He was certainly dead this time – it was undeniable – for he looked like a withered and damaged old man, rather than the slippery serpent that had been his nightmare; both awake and asleep. Snape was stood by him, staring down in cold silence. Draco watched as he waved his hand and levitated the body, before he followed it silently out of the door.

When Draco diverted his attention back to Hermione, he noted that Lupin had now joined them. The front of his shirt was smeared with blood, and his eyes were red as though he too had been crying. Draco did not know how he summoned the strength to remain calm; Potter had been like a son to him. Lupin somehow managed to persuade Weasley and Hermione to move away. Hermione ran straight to Mrs Weasley's arms, her shoulders jolting as they sobbed together. Even at that moment of devastation, Draco longed to be the one she had run to. He felt a hollow sort of envy which, to him, seemed completely at odds with what had just happened. He sat back and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to draw some comfort from the heat of his own body. He felt as though time had stopped in that room where the only sound was of crying; everything seemed to move twice as slowly, every emotion and feeling was exaggerated tenfold. He wanted to escape it.

Following Snape's move, Lupin waved his wand and levitated Harry's body. The group formed a procession behind him, as they slowly followed Lupin and Harry out of the Shrieking Shack. Together they walked through the grounds, in silent poignancy and recognition for the life of Harry Potter. Draco wondered idly where Severus was, but did not want to reflect on it. Severus certainly had a score to settle with Voldemort; what he did now that the man had died was nobody's business but his own. Draco walked alone towards the back of the group, his head bowed and his eyes half closed. He hadn't reached Hermione in time – that he was certain of. If he had…it would have been he who led dead and not Potter. It _should _have been him. He had expected it to be. Potter had so much more left to do; yes he had saved the Wizarding World, but now they needed him to rebuild it. He would have done a bloody good job too. But what would Draco bring? Nothing. He was the son of a Death Eater, who had tried to kill the only person that the people had trusted more than Potter. There would be no place for him in this new world, he was almost certain.

They processed to the headmistress' office, as people stopped and watched whilst they passed by. Draco hated seeing the looks of realisation on their faces; confusion, then horror, followed by sheer and uncontrollable grief. It made his head ache to think what an impact this would have on the rest of the wizarding population. They would be at a compete loss without him – no one could deny it. As the others entered the office, Draco hung back and stayed outside. The statue of the gargoyle moved back into place, as Draco stood solemnly and watched it. He would have felt unwelcome in there. It was not his place to witness what would happen; to speak to Dumbledore's portrait in such a moment of grief would have been unbearable for him. He was certain he would never be able to face the headmaster again – portrait or not. As he watched, he heard a slight movement behind him and turned to see his godfather. Snape's face looked hard and tired, but Draco could sense relief there. He knew how it felt, for he was experiencing it too.

"Come, Draco. We shall have tea."

Strangely, they headed to the dungeons which accepted Snape as though he had never been away. Tea was delivered to them both, which they prepared and drank in silence. Although the silence was comfortable, it was loaded with raw emotion that Draco was sure would never be expressed. Happiness, elation, sadness, grief. Eventually, Snape broke the tension.

"I buried Voldemort. His grave is unmarked and no one shall ever know how to locate it but myself." Draco nodded.

"It's strange."

"Yes." Snape sighed wearily. "Strange is the only adequate way to describe how I feel." Snape stared at Draco carefully for a moment, with narrow eyes.

"What is it you want to say to me?" Draco whispered quietly. "Don't say 'nothing', because I know you wish to speak. You can tell me; I don't have the strength to be angry."

"Your father is dead. I killed him."

The message was painful, his delivery blunt, but Draco was grateful for it. He expected that Severus felt guilty about the murder of his father, but Draco did not think he had reason to be. It was what Draco had wanted. The only thing that made him angry was that he hadn't been able to do the deed himself. Draco voiced these thoughts, and Snape physically sagged as though he was no longer carrying a great weight.

"He killed Hermione's mother too." Draco whispered, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "He hurt so many people that I love. I'm glad he's dead." The two of them did not speak any further, but Severus put a hand on Draco's shoulder and gave him a very brief smile. They drank the rest of their tea in companionable silence, uncertain of what was going to happen to them next.

* * *

_Saturday 7__th__ November, 1998_

The following week was an almost unbearable blur for Draco and the rest of the Wizarding World. Whilst one could not help but celebrate the salvation of the Wizarding World, it was impossible not to feel the grief. Parties were interspersed with quiet reflection and vigils, and Hogwarts became a place for both mourning and merriment. It was possible to lose one's head in such a whirlwind of madness. Papers printed conflicting news stories; everyone had a theory on how Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, but no one knew exactly. Not even the Order knew, hell, even those who had witnessed it were none the wiser.

Draco returned to Grimmauld Place, along with many of the other Order members. It was a relief for him to be away from Hogwarts; he appreciated being back in his small, messy room and he sat alone in it for hours on end. The only person whom he permitted to keep him company was his godfather. They would sit together and play chess, or discuss banal things like the weather or what was for lunch, and sometimes they would just sit in silence and read. Although Draco was pleased to be reunited with him (and he enjoyed his company immensely), it just wasn't enough. He simply wasn't Hermione.

The truth was, Draco had neither seen nor spoken to her since the day of the battle. Of course he had seen her picture in the Prophet every day, and listened to the interviews with her on the Wizarding Wireless Network, but it was not the same. When he led alone in the evenings, with only his thoughts to distract him, he managed to convince himself that she was avoiding him. She wished it was he that had died and not Harry. He knew it. Draco was aware that Snape knew what he was thinking, but his godfather did not mention it; the look of anxiety in his eyes was unavoidable, however.

An exact week following the battle, Potter's funeral was held in the Hogwarts grounds. Like Dumbledore's funeral service, hundreds of people arrived to pay their final respects. Draco was amongst them. He sat at the back next to Snape, his face impassive and his eyes fixed steadily on the back of Hermione's head. Her hair was scraped back into a bun and the autumn sunlight bounced off it. Draco thought she looked beautiful, even if her eyes were red from crying and her cheeks streaked with tears. During the service, she turned around as though she could feel Draco looking at her. Their eyes met for a brief moment, during which she smiled sadly before turning back to the front. It was brief contact, but it appeased Draco for the time being.

Whilst the burial took place, Draco quietly stood from his seat and walked slowly down to the lake. He sat on the ground and leant against a tree, staring out across the lake which shimmered gently. Looking at his peaceful surroundings, it was hard to believe that, only a week earlier, it had been a scene of carnage; because of this, for the first time, it seemed that Draco was truly able to see all that had taken place. His assassination attempt, living in the wild with Severus, begging for mercy from The Order, befriending Hermione, falling in _love _with her, his mother's murder…_Potter_'s murder. The fall of Voldemort. It all seemed so unreal, so unlikely to have everhappened. But it had, and the effects on Draco were more profound than he could ever have anticipated.

Ducking his head and closing his eyes, Draco allowed a single tear to drop from his eyes. It was the first time he had cried in a very long time, and Draco was resolute that it would also be the last. Giving a shaky sigh, his eyelids fluttered open and he saw a pair of simple black shoes stood in front of him.

"Draco…?"

"Hermione…" It was the only thing he could think to say. A greeting seemed irrelevant, condolences seemed crass, and blabbering about his feelings would have been ridiculous.

"I'm so sorry that I haven't been in touch." She blurted suddenly, looking sheepish. "This week has been utter madness. I've hardly slept, or even sat down…everyone wants to talk to me or take my picture; it's becoming a little tiresome, you know?"

"That's quite alright. I understand."

Without saying another word she sat down next to him; letting out a small sigh, she rested her head against the tree and closed her eyes. They sat in silence, basking in the sunshine, until Draco could bear it no longer.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" She asked quietly, confusion lacing her voice.

"That…that I didn't get to you in time. I wish that…that I'd got there before Harry." It was not necessary for him to explain; they both understood what he was suggesting. He was surprised when, after a moment, Hermione moved and knelt opposite him. She placed her hands on his cheeks and leant forwards so that their foreheads met.

"Don't even _think _such a thing." She whispered. "There was nothing that any of us could have done – _nothing_. Besides, I don't even think it was the…the Curse that did it. Didn't you see that light? It was so odd…"

"Astute as ever, Miss Granger." Hermione moved away as they both turned to face Snape, whose arrival they had heretofore not been aware of. "Surprisingly it does not astound me that, even with an imminent threat of death, you did not fail to notice the particulars." Hermione gave a bashful smile, but her eyes flashed with curiosity.

"What is it you know, sir? Please, share it with us."

"The amulet. As you know, Narcissa gave it to me as a gift." He turned to look at Draco. "But you were not aware of the fact that she intended me to give it to _you_; she did not wish to give it to you directly, fearing that it would draw your father's attention and ruin her carefully laid plans."

"What do you mean, Severus? What plans?"

"The amulet has special properties, Draco, which make it an ideal gift for someone whom you want to protect. These properties will only come into power if the giver of the amulet cares for the receiver, and if someone is willing to sacrifice themselves for them. They activate when the recipient is in the face of danger."

"What are these powers?" Hermione demanded. "Was that the bright light?"

"Yes. If the conditions I mentioned are met, a bright light will be emitted from the amulet and the danger will be destroyed. Someone must be willing to sacrifice themselves for the recipient, for they too will be destroyed by the light."

"You gave the amulet to me…" Draco stated quietly. "Who intended to sacrifice themselves for me?"

"Your mother." Draco and Snape exchanged a long look, as Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's.

"And then Draco gave it to me." She said. "And Harry…" They fell into silence, each contemplating the gravity of what had just been explained.

After a few moments, Snape excused himself and returned to the castle, leaving Draco and Hermione alone once more.

"I…" Draco started. Hermione squeezed his hand to stop him, looking up and giving him a small smile. She had been crying silently but then so had he.

"Don't say anything." She whispered. "Let's just be quiet for a while. So much has happened, and we still have so much left to do. Let's take a moment for ourselves." Hermione rested her head on Draco's shoulder, a wily lock of hair tickling his cheek. He reached around her shoulder, and gently touched the amulet that still dangled around her neck, marvelling that such a tiny thing had the power to do so much. Draco gave a gentle sigh and, together, they watched as the lake twinkled in the midday sun.

* * *

_Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed the final chapter of If! I wanted to keep the ending vague because, like Draco is at the end, i wanted that last little bit of doubt, confusion and uncertainty to remain! ;) I would like to hear how you found the ending, and the whole thing really, so please leave a review! On the subject of reviews, i would like to thank every person who has read and reviewed each of my chapters; particularly those who have reviewed each chapter diligently as the months have passed, and haven't given up on my fic! THANK YOU! :D_


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